


1080p

by CloudNineKitty



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Just an au where Gladio and Prompto fall in love, M/M, Slice of Life, ignoct is a side pairing, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudNineKitty/pseuds/CloudNineKitty
Summary: Prompto finds a muse for his photography project in the last place he expected...





	1. Mullet Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot but then it reached 60+ pages sooooo....
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful and ever so patient [bickz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bickz/pseuds/bickz)! They're so talented and I'm blessed that they agreed to help me with this!

Red Converse soles pattered rhythmically on the tiles in Noctis' kitchen - or should he call it Ignis' kitchen, seeing as Noctis wasn't allowed to touch anything beyond the pantry or refrigerator. _Tap-tap-tap, TAP,_ _tap-tap-tap, TAP, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap--_

Noctis set a paisley patterned coffee mug on the kitchen table in front of Prompto, then sat down perpendicular to his friend with his own cup.  “Is that…”

“Nicki Minaj, yeah. Been stuck in my head.” Prompto admitted. He didn’t particularly like the artist, or the genre of music, but when his dorm mate blasts it on repeat from their room to mask the sounds of their tasteless late night debauchery, it tends to jam itself in the ear canal and make itself at home.

“Your roommate is still bringing around that girl?” Noctis asked.

“Yeah, Vlad the Impaler and Bloody Mary won’t quit.” Prompto sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. It was a perfect mixture of vanilla bean blend and dark chocolate almond milk; developing lactose intolerance was probably the best thing to ever happen to his tastebuds.

Ignis, who was nursing his own cup from the other end of the kitchen, chimed in on that. “I understand the first reference, but Bloody Mary?”

Noctis and Prompto spoke up at the same time, “They do it even when she’s-”

A hand rose to stop them. “No, thank you, I get it now.” Ignis’ eyebrows arched high as he seemed to contemplate the world’s current affairs. He could be old-fashioned at times, but dating someone like Noctis kept him in circulation. “That’s not why you’re here, is it? Are they at the dorms right now?”

Prompto stared at him over the rim of his mug. “Mm, no. Well, maybe - great coffee, Iggy.” He licked his lips clean. “Professor Ardyn is on my ass about this project. I just needed to get off campus.”

“Technically you’re still on campus, these apartments are owned by the university.” Noctis amended unhelpfully.

“You know what I mean.” Prompto clipped. “You’re so lucky you dropped this class, Noct. He’s so weird!”

“I dropped _because_ he’s weird,” Noct said. “And because photography isn’t my thing. But it’s yours, Prom. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Is this the professor that doesn’t know the meaning behind personal space?” Ignis chimed in.

“Yeah, the weirdo that always wears a scarf and fedora even when it’s pushing ninety degrees outside.”

“Ah, yes, I did not like him.”

Prompto grinned at the exchange. Ardyn _had_ had some weird obsession with Noctis, even for the months following the boy’s dropping of the class. He didn’t seem to understand why Noctis didn’t want to waste time on his courses, going so far as to sneaking up on Noctis whenever he and Prompto ate lunch on campus. “He still asks me about you.”

Noctis wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“What’s the project on?” Ignis asked, deciding he’d heard enough regarding his boyfriend’s stalker.

“It’s the worst!” Prompto wailed. “We have to cover several themes, several _cheesy_ and ridiculous themes. Gag me!”

“Such as?”

“Uh…here...” Prompto turned and leaned over the table, grabbing his backpack and digging through it until he found his folder for the class. He pulled out the list and handed it to Noctis, leaving Ignis to walk over and peer over the younger man’s shoulder.

It took no time at all for Ignis to cringe openly, reading some of the choice words aloud. “Bed sheets? Fusion of bodies? Cravings? Nudity?”

“He demands that the nudity must be tasteful.” Prompto mocked the tone the teacher had used, all proper and dire. “And the best part is, all of these have to be connected. I have to be able to explain why they are all related to one another. That’s over a hundred shots!”

Noctis remained silent as slate blue eyes scanned each numbered item on the page, visage impassive. An entire minute passed, which felt like an eternity to Prompto, before he finally took a quiet inhale and handed the project paper back to his friend. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve loved photography. Even in middle school you had that digital camera, remember?”

Prompto would rather not remember that embarrassing time when he was overweight and meek and terrified of being rejected because of all of that.

“You’ve worked hard all your life, Prompto,” Noctis continued. “You overcome everything that you put your mind to. So this should be nothing, right?”

Blond eyebrows lifted in shock. It was rare that Noctis spoke from the heart, usually too lethargic to speak up, but when he did, his words were always profound to the people around him. They clutched Prompto’s heart, squeezing. “Awwww, Noct!”

He launched himself at his friend, knocking the chair back and into Ignis. A chain reaction occurred there, with the chair and Ignis’ cup both being physical items of consequences, and suddenly Prompto and Noctis’ shoulders were wet and smelled of roasted coffee beans, and Ignis’ eyes were rolling so hard they nearly fell out of his head.

* * *

 

Prompto dropped down into the driver’s seat of his silver Nissan Versa Hatchback wearing one of Noctis’ many black shirts that he had to spare. Ignis promised to give him back his shirt coffee stain-free next time he was over, which would probably be tomorrow - Fridays were their weekly movie marathon nights. Turning on the ignition, the gas light immediately blinked on in its ominous orange glow.

Shit, he had forgotten to fill up. And the closest gas station was...Hammerhead. Okay, maybe this wasn’t an omen.

Hammerhead was a privately owned gas and service station with a retro diner located next door, giving it this vibe of traveling back in time. More importantly, going there meant Cindy, and Cindy meant all his troubles would evaporate for the time being. There was just something about her gentle smile, straight white teeth, those dazzling olive green eyes, and her can-do personality that had Prompto smitten. He only got a few words in with her whenever he filled up at Hammerhead, seeing as she was always busy working on some old clunker, but it was enough to keep him coming back again and again.

His car had about fifteen miles left when the light blinked on, if he was gentle with the pedals, so getting there would be a close call. It was anxiety-inducing when his eyes kept flicking between the meter on the dashboard and the road, but he was pulling alongside one of the two pumps that Hammerhead had to offer.

He dug through his bag for spare cash that had crumpled up at the bottom from carelessly tossing loose change inside. He gathered up three wrinkled five dollar bills and headed to the cashier inside to open his pump, keeping his eyes peeled for a red hat atop a nest of sandy blonde curls, when a flash of color caught his eye.

To his right, on the other side of his pump, sat a freshly waxed, burnt orange vintage Ford Mustang convertible that had to be half a century old. Everything about the model was endearingly retro, from the oversized steering wheel to the protruding cone hub caps. It was like model car jumped out of an auto junkie’s magazine.

But Prompto wasn’t big on cars, that wasn’t why he had stopped to gawk. It was because of bullet point number thirty-two: _a taste for vintage_. Vintage! Couldn’t get more vintage than a vehicle from the sixties, and he was pretty sure his professor was alive back then - maybe. It was hard to pinpoint an accurate age.

A million ideas raced through Prompto’s mind at once. Cars could surely fit several if not all the topics he had to cover. Hammerhead could offer a lot of material as well, and maybe he could convince Cindy to-- no, he couldn’t get ahead of himself, but this was a great start! Even if his project didn’t follow the direction of his thoughts, it would still make a great shot.

Prompto shoved the cash in his back pocket and ran sporadically to the passenger door of his car, throwing it open and digging through his camera bag to pull out his Nikon. He kicked the car door shut and stood in front of the timeless vehicle once more, staring at it through his viewfinder as he stepped backwards and side to side, looking for the best angle with the late afternoon sunlight and the overhang casting shadows. He snapped a few shots, glanced through them on the playback screen, then squatted down to try a different angle.

His own car was ruining the shots, even with it half hidden by the gas pump. He wished he could get this car alone in a field, or on an abandoned road during sunset…

“Hey!”

The guttural exclamation had Prompto tipping back on his ass, his right hand squeezing around his camera protectively. He batted his lashes furiously before squinting up at the owner of the shout.

A goliath wearing a black tank top and baggy white pants stomped over to the Mustang, a case of beers tucked under one of his tattooed arms. The man bent over to check the hood of his car for damage, and Prompto noticed that he was sporting a disorderly mullet, and had a long, vertical scar that stretched over his left eye, nearly running down the entire length of his face, and another that ran horizontal across his forehead. There was no doubt in his mind that this huge, scary muscle man owned this muscle car.

Dark eyes turned on him and Prompto felt a panicked chill race down his spine. Shit, this guy could turn him to paste with a single punch, and Prompto was probably on his bad side now. He didn’t dare try to get up from the asphalt just yet.

“The hell you doin’ with my car?” The man asked in a gravelly voice that hinted to danger.

Prompto swallowed audibly. Was he going to die? “Uh, hey man, I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I just saw your car- I’m a photography student- uh, in college- there’s this project-”

He wasn’t making much sense, and the guy’s furrowed brows weren’t easing up.

“Your school project is to take creep shots of strangers’ cars?” The man scoffed.

“No! Just your car! Wait, no, _no_! That came out wrong!” Prompto’s face was about to melt off his skull if he didn’t rein in his racing thoughts. He inhaled deeply and pushed himself up with his free hand, keeping his distance from the man. “There’s a theme I have to take photos for, and your car fit it really well, and, I dunno, I started taking pictures without thinking. Sorry, I should have asked for permission.”

“Yeah, you should have. How do I know you’re not some creep taking pictures of my plates?” The man clipped.

“No, I wasn’t…” Wow, this guy was _not_ happy. Prompto wasn’t entirely sure how to appease the man, since the apology wasn’t taken so well. “Uh...want to see the shots I got? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m not all that bad, heh.”

Thick, wiry dark brows dipped lower, before easing considerably. “Yeah, sure.”

Prompto stepped lightly over to the man, realizing that the guy towered over him by almost an entire foot. He was taking a big risk here - if he handed over his (very expensive) camera and the guy smashed it on the ground out of anger, Prompto wouldn’t be able to afford a new one, had barely managed to get his hands on the money for this one, and then he’d definitely fail his class and have to kiss his chances of making a career out of this field goodbye. He hesitated, fingers tightening their hold, then held the camera out to the man.

The giant cocked an eyebrow at the equipment, then glanced at Prompto. “I don’t know how to work that thing.”

Well, that was a sign that he wasn’t going to smash it, right? Prompto sagged in utter relief. “Oh...right, here, let me…”

He moved to stand side by side with the man, the mullet-head switching the case of clinking beer bottles to his other arm so it wasn’t jutting between them. Prompto chanced a peek up at his face, standing close enough to smell his cologne. The guy was all sharp features, a dark beard lining his jaw and chin, giving off a take-no-shit vibe. He was especially imposing this close.

Clearing his throat, he managed to move his trembling hands well enough to get to navigate through the camera to show the man the pictures he’d taken of his car. They were simple shots, a couple head on, some from a right angle, more from the left.

There was one where the sun was glaring off the chrome bumper, and Prompto hummed. “This one’s kind of cool, because the lighting gives it this over contrasted look.”

The guy hummed. “Whatever that means.”

Prompto glanced up at him, but dark - no, they were amber, he noticed - eyes were glued to the screen. He felt the corners of his lips twitch as a sense of calmness began to creep back into his bones. Maybe this guy wasn’t so scary…

He hit the next button, and a picture of a bird’s nest full of tiny speckled eggs in the midst of tangled weeds came up. “Oh, that was the last of them.”

“Keep going.” The man said, tone much softer than before, but still gruff.

“Huh?”

“The pictures. Let’s see some more.” He met Prompto’s gaze for a brief moment.

“O-oh...right.” Prompto flushed, pressing the next button. Maybe the guy wanted to see if he had other cars in his line up? Or if he was some pervert? Prompto was thankful that most of the shots on here were for class projects, one way or another, and nothing incriminating. His pictures covered a range of topics, though several were shots of Ignis’ cooking - the man’s plating was an art form of its own. There was one from a month ago of Cindy giving Prompto a coy smile, wrench in her gloved hand. The guy made a sound of recognition - he clearly knew Cindy worked there at Hammerhead, and could now ascertain that Prompto was a regular around these parts and not some shadow passing through.

Another picture had Noctis holding up a striped bass that he had caught while they were on a day trip at the coast.

“That’s a big one,” The man muttered, impressed. “Friend of yours?”

“No, that's a fish,” Prompto answered before he could think about what he was saying.

The sudden guffaw that escaped the man was loud and quick, but it did the trick to melt the tense atmosphere surrounding them. “Aren't you funny.”

Maybe he wasn’t so bad, Prompto sighed in relief. If he wasn’t angry about the photos anymore, maybe Prompto could convince him to let him take some more. “Hey, uh, if you don’t mind, I was wondering if I could take some more shots? If you don’t mind, that is.”

The guy arched a thick brow at that, the one with the scar running through it. He was back to looking intimidating. “You said that twice.”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t mind.” He repeated.

“Ah...sorry.” Prompto flushed.

“But sure, let me move it so it’s not blocking the pump.”

“Oh, right, of course!” He should probably move his own, for that matter.

Prompto watched the large man drop the beer case into the back seat of the car and get into the driver’s seat to turn on the car and steer it to a sunny, open spot. Prompto immediately eyed the retro diner as a perfect backdrop, and trotted over with camera poised.

Mullet Man, as Prompto abruptly decided to call him, stood behind him and out of his way, only leering over his shoulder any time Prompto scrolled through the playback. He was quiet and patient, and completely different from his first impression of a pissed off gym junkie on too many steroids and ate rusty nails for breakfast. What? Prompto had a wild imagination.

Several minutes of the giant’s breathing, loud and noticeable due to his size, had Prompto feeling on edge again.

“Hey,” Prompto stood from where he’d been crouching, turning to look at Mullet Man. “Would you mind standing next to the car?”

Mullet Man batted thick, dark lashes. “Me? Why?”

“Well, because you’re built like a mountain and your tatts are cool, and I think it’d make a great shot if you were leaning against your car or something.” And Prompto didn’t want him standing behind him in awkward silence anymore.

“If you say so - you’re the master photographer.”

Mullet Man was not a model, and that became real apparent, real fast. He hunched his shoulders, tilted his head too low so it created a shadow over his eyes, and his jaw was set stern. If he just relaxed, this would be an facile piece of art.

“What’s your name?” Prompto asked as he approached the goliath.

He uncrossed his arms and stood straight. “Gladiolus.”

“Wow, that’s a mouthful. Is Gladio okay?” At the nod he received, he grinned openly. “Gladio. I’m Prompto. Mind if I touch you?”

“Kid, you are--”

“Nothing weird!” He amended. “Just to help you pose.”

Gladio pursed his lips, but nodded nonetheless. Turned out that posing Gladio was no easy feat either. Prompto had to stretch to lift the guy’s chin, even out his shoulders, but also make them look relaxed and not like an arranged piece of furniture, and then the guy would move a leg or an arm and mess up the whole thing. Worst of all, Prompto couldn’t get frustrated because the man was giving him a free, impromptu photoshoot.

“Leg bent like this...yeah, yeah, leave that there. And haaaa-aaaands... _here_. Perfect, beautiful, don’t move!” Prompto turned on his toes to return to his original spot. The sun was starting to dip behind the treeline across the road of the garage, bathing the parking lot in an orange glow. He snapped a shot, and pulled it up immediately to stare at it.

And stare at it.

And stare.

“No good?” Gladio called out to him from across the distance.

Prompto blinked once, slow. He lifted his gaze to meet Gladio’s, and felt his cheeks split on a grin. “Better than good. It’s gorgeous! But this lighting won’t last long, so don’t move!”

He took several more shots, and then the sun was out of sight and the sky dimmed. He marched over to Gladio to show him the results, zooming in on details of his favorites.

“You’ve got a knack for this, Prompto, I’ll give you that. Hope these help you pass your class.” Gladio hummed pleasantly.

Oh right, his class. He had nearly forgotten this all started because of Professor Ardyn’s project. “Well, they will, partially. I still need to…”

Wait, that wasn’t a bad idea.

Gladio leaned his head down, as if he hadn’t heard right. “Still need to what?”

If Prompto could get this guy to agree to being his project, covering every topic with Prompto for little to no pay, then Prompto would surely nail this grade. A taste for vintage? Covered. Art in the real world? Gladio’s tattoos could cover that one. And if all the shots were of or had to do with Gladiolus, then that was the connection. He was feeling an incredible surge of inspiration from this man, from his car. He hadn’t been this pumped since, well, since he turned in his first project - but Professor Ardyn hadn’t thought it as great as Prompto had.

Gladio followed Prompto to his hatchback upon the boy’s request, and he pulled out his assignment paper. Amber eyes scanned the paper for several long seconds, a large, swollen knuckle pressed to chapped lips. Prompto took the chance to examine Gladio properly under the halogen lights of the overhang.

The tattoos on his arms were feathers, and that took some squinting to spot the tiny details, the endless work put into each line. That must have taken several visits to the chair, which meant the man could dedicate himself when he set his mind to it.

“Fusion of bodies…” Gladio drawled, snatching back Prompto’s wandering attention.

“Yeah, don’t know what I’ll do with that one yet.” Prompto admitted.

“ _Nudity_?” A raised brow emphasized the question.

Prompto flushed and looked anywhere but the man’s face. They had only met over an hour ago. “Ah- w-well, that doesn’t have to be...we can just cover your bottom half with a sheet, and just take a shirtless shot, o-or something…”

Gladio shifted and Prompto clenched his stomach, preparing for a punch or kick or something.

“This alone took almost two hours…” Gladio murmured. “And you have fifty-one more topics to cover. How long will it take you to get what you need?”

“Can’t make any promises, but...a week? Maybe two? Since we’ll have to plan around our schedules.” Prompto answered as if in a trance. Was he really considering this?

“I’m pretty flexible.” Gladio grunted, and the flush returned to Prompto’s face tenfold.

“What?”

“My schedule.”

“Oh.” Right. “That’s great!”

“But if I do this for you…” Gladio trailed off.

Prompto dreaded what the man was about to ask of him. He didn’t have money to pay him for days and days of photoshoots, and he wasn’t adept enough in the kitchen to bake him brownies as a thank you gift - maybe he could convince Ignis to do that for him?

“There’s something I need you to help me with.”

What on earth could he possibly need Prompto’s, a complete stranger, help with? Hopefully it didn’t entail any heavy lifting, because he was less than qualified for that, especially compared to Gladio’s guns. “Um, sure?”

“It would require you coming by my house, but if that makes you uncomfortable…”

It did make him uncomfortable. It made him very uncomfortable. “You don’t know me, though. I could be a serial killer, or a cat burglar! You should check your pockets, I might have picked them.”

The left side of Gladio’s face scrunched up in laughter before the rest of it followed, and he snorted obnoxiously. “I know my wallet is still there, Prompto. I can tell you're a good guy just from your photos.”

“Wha- how?”

“A serial killer or cat burglar doesn’t have a vision like yours.”

Prompto bit the inside of his cheek to contain the croak that threatened to explode past his lips. “You know that’s a load of bullshit, right?”

“Also, if you were a serial killer, there is no way you could overpower me.” Gladio grinned, flashing large white teeth.

Prompto’s heart smacked itself into his ribcage, just for a beat. “Okay, see, there’s the truth. Well, how do I know _you’re_ not a serial killer inviting me to the lion’s den?”

“Wait, am I a serial killer or a jungle cat now?” Gladio rested an arm on the roof of Prompto’s car casually, as if they were old time friends. It was odd, how stiff they were just an hour ago.

“You could just be clinically insane, but I’m not one to judge.” Prompto teased. He set his camera down on the driver’s seat of his car, and pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “What’s your number?”

They exchanged information, and Prompto agreed to text him soon with his decision. He got inside his car and watched Gladio retreat across the lot and eventually drive off in his vintage car. And now that Prompto thought about it, that was an expensive car. Even if it was a hand me down, it would cost money to keep it looking like _that_. So Gladiolus had money. What could he possibly need Prompto’s help with exactly?

Groaning to himself, Prompto started the car and immediately glanced at the orange gas light.

Wait...

“I forgot to fill up!”


	2. Gladiolus Amicitia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you serious? This is what you need help with?”

Several text exchanges later, Prompto was still not convinced that going to Gladio’s house was a smart idea. The guy was nice, a little slow with technology if the fifteen minutes it took him to text back was any indication, but that didn’t quell his anxiety. Sure, he was the one that had asked Gladio to help with his school project, but he had been planning on meeting with him in public places, or at the school’s art studio.

He hadn’t told Noctis about the encounter at Hammerhead, and insinuated that he hadn’t come up with anything for Ardyn’s class yet when asked at their Friday movie night. He knew what Noctis and Ignis would say - they’d check him in at an asylum for even considering the idea of going to a complete stranger’s home for an intimate photoshoot.

But was it really so bad when Prompto was the one behind the camera? It would be a thousand times creepier if the roles were reversed.

Prompto groaned openly when Nicki Minaj erupted through the thin wall separating his room from his dorm mate’s - it was ten in the morning, didn’t Vlad and Mary have anything better to do?

He flipped over onto his stomach on his bed and snatched his camera from the nightstand. The screen booted up and he immediately retreated to the playback screen where he scrolled through the impromptu Hammerhead shoot one picture at a time. Specifically the ones of Gladiolus.

He had quite a handsome face, and his body was something straight out of gym membership pamphlet, but he couldn’t pose without help and he looked constipated when he tried too hard. But then, with his arm on the roof of Prompto’s car, that was relaxed and natural, and his face…

Prompto gave a full body exhale and exchanged out his camera for his phone.

* * *

 

“Are you serious? _This_ is what you need help with?” Prompto asked from where he sat in front of a laptop at a long solid walnut table.

Gladiolus, as it turned out, had money. Old money, he called it, but enough to live comfortably by himself in a two story house nestled in a gated community. The décor consisted of strange items collected from around the world because, oh yeah, Gladio _traveled_ . After he left the military ( _the military_ ), he decided to spend a year visiting every continent like it was spring break or something. And Prompto had thought Noctis’ rich family ties were over the top.

As it turned out, however, money couldn’t help someone pay their way into the age of technology.

Prompto stared at the eBay homepage with a frown, blue eyes shifting between the screen and a sheepish Gladiolus.

“Yeah, I’m no good with computers. So I need you to help me open a shop on there.” Gladio gestured to the laptop as though it was the online store itself.

“To sell what?”

“Swords.”

“ _Swords?_ ”

“And shields.”

“ _Shields!_ ”

“I have a lot that I’ve collected over the years, but I don’t need them anymore.” Gladio shrugged, as if this wasn’t the strangest thing to talk to someone you’ve only recently met about. _Not a serial killer, but look at all these sharp, pointy sticks I own._ “Not the family heirlooms, of course.”

“ _Of course_.” Prompto sighed in exasperation, but lifted his hands to begin clicking on links for the site.

Setting up the shop was a piece of cake, and Gladio even handed over his credit card to Prompto to enter his payment information - how this man trusted Prompto from his photos alone was beyond him, but he was lucky Prompto was a decent human being.

“Okay, so where are your pictures of the...swords...” It was so weird saying that. “I’m going to upload them and start the bid.”

“I need pictures?” Gladio genuinely asked him, without a hint of sarcasm or jest.

“Gladio,” Prompto wheezed, twisting his neck to stare up at the man with pleading eyes. “You’re killing me!”

This was far worse than Gladiolus Amicitia being a serial killer or escaped convict, Prompto decided right there.

He followed Gladio to a room that branched off the living room at the back of the house, remaining in the threshold. Swords and shields from different eras and countries lined the walls of the room in a seemingly unorganized manner. Stepping into a room stocked to the ceiling with weapons along with a complete stranger sounded like it could be Prompto’s last moment on the earth.

“Why did you keep all of these?” Prompto asked with a squeak.

“I thought I would always use them, but I haven’t touched most of them in years.” Gladio shrugged, seeming unperturbed by the fact that Prompto wouldn’t come any closer.

“ _Use_ them?”

“For a while I would go to Renaissance festivals and demonstrate techniques, and that’s how I’d end up collecting more. I haven’t been to a festival in over a year now, and these swords deserve an owner that doesn’t lock them away in a room for months on end.” He folded his arms over his chest, head cocked in contemplation.

Just what was he thinking about?

Prompto huffed, sticking out his lip as he raked his eyes over the room. He stopped on one spot and squinted. “Is that the katana from Kill Bill?”

Gladio followed his gaze. “Wouldn’t know. Never seen Kill Bill.”

“W-w- _what?!_ ” Prompto sputtered. How could this man have never seen one of the greatest Quentin Tarantino films of all time? This guy was so outdated, from his car to his overgrown mullet.

“So we gonna take pictures or what?” Gladio jutted his thumb at the rows and rows of weapons mounted behind him.

Prompto rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, silently questioning what he had gotten himself into.

“Why exactly do I need to take pictures with the swords?” Gladio said, hands tight around the grip and holding it in a defensive stance. How could he be so natural posing with a dumb medieval sword, but not lean against a car like a human person?

“Size comparison.” Prompto stated, for the third time in ten minutes. “Don’t hold it like that.”

“Like this?” Gladio raised the sword in the air, blade pointing toward the sky. “He-Man style?”

“He-who?” Prompto scoffed and lowered his camera. “C’mon, just stab the tip in the ground or something. We’re wasting daylight here.”

* * *

 

They wasted all of the daylight, as it turned out. It was nearing seven o’clock by the time Prompto finished opening the last bid online. He closed the lid to the laptop, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyeballs hard enough to see blue and white spots flit across the darkness. This was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth…

“Thanks for your help, Prompto.” Gladio smacked him cheerily on the back, leaving a large patch of stinging flesh. “Let me whip you up something to eat as a small token of my gratitude.”

Was this man for real? But his traitorous stomach chimed in at the mention of food, reminding Prompto that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Sure.”

“You okay?” Gladio asked, bending nearly in half to meet the younger man’s eyes.

 _I’m fine_ , was the automatic response on his tongue, but he was just _so aggravated_ from wasting his day on building an eBay shop and taking pictures of dumb swords and a dumb man. He wanted different pictures of the dumb man, damn it; pictures that would give him a passing grade for the last semester of the school year!

“No, I’m not okay,” He bit out, molars grinding together. “But it’s not worth getting into.”

Gladio’s visage crumpled in an incredulous frown. “That’s a load of crap, but I won’t force you to talk. I’ll go make us some dinner, and then maybe you’ll feel like pulling out whatever bug crawled up your ass.”

Bug? Up _his_ ass? Gladio knew exactly why Prompto came over that day, and it was not for _this_. He didn’t have a bug up his ass, he was just working with a giant moron.

Gladio was gone for all of ten minutes before he returned to the table with two white steaming cups and a pair of forks. He set one in front of Prompto, and sat down with his own.

Prompto stared down at the red print on the cup for a handful of seconds before whipping his head to look at Gladio. “Are you kidding me?”

“What’s wrong with ramen?”

“I thought you were going to cook.”

“Heating things up counts as cooking.” Gladio smirked. “Sorta.”

Unbelievable. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he came to Gladio’s house that day, but swords and shields and instant ramen were _not_ it. There was so much about Gladio that he hadn’t expected, what with the car and tattoos. All of it just didn’t add up, and it piled on top of the mountain of projects and homework and finals that were just around the corner.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring at the cooling noodles, before lifting the fork and scooping some into his mouth. They actually didn’t taste that bad if he was being honest, and he _was_ on the verge of starving.

“So…” Gladio murmured in a tone Prompto hadn’t heard from him before. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Prompto slurped up the noodles dangling from his lips, and swallowed. Did he really want to lift the corner of the rug for this man, someone he had met by complete coincidence at a gas station, to see the dust swept beneath? They were nowhere near familiar enough with each other to vent their life problems...but perhaps talking it out with a stranger that was on a contrasting spectrum of Prompto’s worries was exactly what he needed.

* * *

 

“He said _what_?” Gladio gaped, his upper half jerking forward from where he sat on the opposite end of the couch from Prompto.

“Yeah! He called them body horror!” Prompto wailed, the word still burning as bad as when his professor said it.

He couldn’t remember when they had moved to the couch. Gladio had opened a floodgate in Prompto, somehow, and he ended up spilling all his aches and pains about his photography professor as though he were whining to an old friend.

“Is this guy for real? Everyone has stretchmarks, _everyone_.” Gladio’s eyes narrowed - as if he were willing to get up and go fight Professor Ardyn right there and then. “I have them.”

Prompto gawked. “What? No way!”

“I do, on my arms.” Gladio flexed a tattooed bicep, and Prompto realized even his armpits were inked. “You can’t see them because of the tatt, but they’re there.”

“But let me guess,” Prompto pouted. “You got them from muscle building, right? Mine are from being overweight.”

“How is that any different?” Gladio asked, cocking his head to the left. His hair shifted with him. “We both got them from working hard to acquire the body we wanted for ourselves, right?”

He had a point there. Gladio had a lot of good points, actually. It turned out he was choked full of all kinds of tiny wisdoms, things Prompto had never even thought of before. He supposed traveling would do that, broaden your horizons. He envied Gladio in that aspect - the man was so comfortable with who he was. He was over and done with growing, and now had his place in the world, and knew exactly what it was. Prompto wasn’t even sure if he could make a career out of his photography, or pass school in general - don’t even ask him where he saw himself in ten years.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point there…” Prompto murmured quietly.

Gladio bent forward to pick up his beer bottle off the coffee table, the same brand he had been carrying at Hammerhead. Prompto couldn’t stop himself from tracing the bob of the Adam’s apple with his eyes as Gladio emptied the remains in a single go. His beard didn’t travel down his neck, keeping to a clean edge right beneath his jawline.

“‘m gonna go grab another,” Gladio said, waving the empty bottle as clarification. “Want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Prompto pressed out a smile. He knew it was impolite to stare, but that didn’t stop him from openly watching the man get up, pop his back by stretching out his arms. Prompto had never met someone that _looked_ like Gladio before. Guess he didn’t know anyone by that personality, either, but that was greatly due to him still being in college.

Gladio wasn’t complicated. He said what he meant to, he spent his time doing things he was passionate about, and he didn’t want what he didn’t need. What kind of upbringing did it take to make such a simple, albeit _large_ , man?

Bullet point number one, finding your muse.

Prompto blinked at rapid fire. He leapt out of his seat on the couch to dig through his camera bag on the kitchen table, Gladio turning around from where he had been peeling the paper label off his beer bottle at the sink.

“Who lit a fire under your ass?” He asked with a smirk.

“My ass has always been on fire,” Prompto shot back as he cradled his camera out of the bag, pulling off the lens cap. “Don’t move, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Ah, your project? I thought you wanted to use natural daylight.” Gladio shook his head, mullet shivering in the action. Nonetheless, he turned back to scraping his thumb under the logo.

Prompto lined Gladio’s back with the center of his viewfinder and took the shot. He immediately pulled it up to see how his settings fared in the warm yellow lights of the kitchen. Dull colors. He altered the settings to compensate for the lack of light, checked the next picture. Better.

“Should I keep standing here? I’m done.” Gladio sighed, setting the clean bottle on the counter next to the other one that he had sipped with his ramen for dinner.

“We can move back to the couch, but I’m going to keep taking shots.” Prompto admitted.

There was something about Gladiolus that didn’t quite belong in this setting. In a home, walls and couches and ceilings. He had this wild composure to him, from the stray strands of his hair flying off in different directions to his bulky build that took too long to fall into a seat due to his height.

“How tall are you exactly?” Prompto asked, clicking through the shot sequence he took of Gladio sitting on the couch.

“Six-six.” Gladio took a swig from his bottle, Prompto took a picture. He lowered the bottle deliberately slow as he side-eyed Prompto. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

Prompto snickered as he took a picture of that priceless expression. “Sorry,” The shutter clicked once more. “You can talk. Tell me about...I don’t know, those scars on your face.” He paused and glanced up at Gladio from beneath golden lashes. “That’s- If...you don’t mind.”

Gladio snorted and angled himself on the couch so his rear was on the edge and his neck was cradled by the backrest. Prompto almost told him to sit back up, but this pose was more natural. “I don’t mind.”

Prompto zoomed in, watching the live feedback of Gladio on the screen. He had long lashes and dark caterpillar eyebrows that Prompto lingered on a little too long.

“The one on my eye came from a civilian. I was touring, and we made a stop at a base in Heidelberg, Germany. Some buddies wanted to go drinking, an overconfident bunch. They started a fight with some German guys that worked on the base, and one of them came at my friend with a broken bottle.”

Prompto lifted his head so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Listening to Gladio talk about his days in the military felt surreal, especially when he used the word _civilian_. He saw other people, regular Joes going to work in white collar offices, as civilians, like he was separated from them as a species. “Whoa...but you’re huge. Bet you kicked his ass, huh?”

“No,” Gladio bounced his right leg. “It was just some dumb, drunk bastard. I took the hit, and the sight of blood sobered him up enough to realize what he was doing. He backed down immediately.”

Prompto felt his mouth drying out from gawking, and he quickly snapped it shut.

“Lucky he didn’t hit my eye, or I would have been dismissed from active duty.”

“Is that where you got the one on your head? On the field?”

Gladio reached up to run his ring finger over the smooth line over his forehead. “This? This was personal. Other guy looks worse.”

“Did it hurt?” Prompto asked, taking a chance to capture the distant gaze that had settled on Gladio. It was obvious he was reliving the event in his mind.

“Not as much as this one.” Gladio yanked on the collar of his black tank top to reveal several inches of an angry puckered scar that hadn’t healed properly. Prompto lifted his chin to try and spot just how far the diagonal line went, but Gladio released the shirt and it fell back in a wrinkled mess against his chest.

Prompto pursed his lips in disappointment and sat back against the arm of the couch. “What hurt more, the scars or the tattoos?”

Gladio let out a loud, dumb laugh that was startling. “The tattoo, believe it or not. When they got to my ribs - like tiny gunshots against my bones. No matter how much muscle you have, the ribs are the worst place to get done.”

There was more to the tattoo? Prompto had assumed Gladio only had the sleeves - feathers or wings or something, he couldn’t quite decipher the dark ink. “Can I see? For reference.”

Another stupid laugh. Gladio turned his back to Prompto and grabbed a fistful of the back of his tank, pulling it over his head in an smooth reveal of the canvas of his back. The ink came together to form the backside of a predatory bird that looked ready to take flight when Gladiolus spread his arms out at his sides. It stretched from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, and even though there was so much detail, so much to memorize, Prompto found himself staring right at the twin dimples that resided above the hem of Gladio’s pants.

“Hold that pose.” Prompto’s words rushed out on an exhale, and he pulled his camera up, taking photo after photo.

“Like it?” Gladio chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. Prompto took a picture of that.

“Yeah! It’s super cool!” Super cool? What was he, a grade schooler? He couldn’t come up with any better synonym?

Eventually, Gladio decided it was time to put his shirt back on, and Prompto realized that Gladio never turned around once, and he’d lost his chance to peek at the scar. “It’s getting late. You should head out.”

Prompto’s breath halted. He hadn’t expected Gladio to kick him out so abruptly. “Oh,” A glance at his phone did inform him that it was a quarter past eleven, and they were still only getting to know one another. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, having your picture being taken for hours must be pretty boring.”

“A little.” Gladio shrugged, honest.

Prompto’s brows shot up on his forehead, but Gladio didn’t apologize. “Well, geez, sorry.”

“It’s fine. You were a big help today.” Gladio smiled as though he hadn’t just insulted Prompto to his face. Did he not realize how rude he had just been? “Thanks.”

Prompto’s frown didn’t lift, and Gladio didn’t remark on it. He escorted Prompto to the front door, and closed it before Prompto even got into his car.

What the hell?


	3. Gladio Amicitia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Of course I like you."

Prompto couldn’t get over the mood shift that happened Saturday. It kept him awake at night, tossing haplessly around his bed as Gladio’s words twisted into deformed mutations of what he had actually said.  _ This is boring. Go home. _

He stared up at his dorm room ceiling with furrowed brows and a jutted bottom lip. What the hell did some mullet head like Gladio know? Photography was a blast! And having pictures taken of you was an effortless, all one had to do was sit there until the photographer told them to do something different.

_ This is boring. _

_ Go home. _

Well Gladio was boring! And  _ he _ should go home! And none of that made any sense.

Prompto slid his phone closer to his laptop where he was scrolling through a blog that covered tutorials on a new editing program he had downloaded a week ago but never touched. It had been seventy-seven hours since he’d left Gladio’s house - they hadn’t even talked about when they would try to reschedule. Gladio couldn’t mistake that Prompto had gotten all the shots he needed to complete the course; he had seen firsthand how long the list was!

Then why had he kicked Prompto out?

Okay, so he hadn’t  _ kicked _ him out, and it had been late, and they  _ had _ spent the entire day together; had he become tired of Prompto? Maybe Prompto had overshared and now Gladio thought he was clingy, or perhaps he had prodded too far when he asked about his scars.

Prompto drummed his fingers beside his phone, staring at the black screen. Gladio wasn’t going to text him, he knew that.

It was insane that he’d considered centering his project around a strange, not serial killer, man who didn’t know how to use the internet. It wasn’t too late to go back to Hammerhead and try to find more inspiration, or look for subjects else where. Cindy would be all too happy to lend him a hand.

The drumming stopped.

A bird of prey, who knew exactly where his place was in the world.

His fingers were moving before his brain finished processing what he’d even say, but he had already unlocked the screen and pulled up his text thread with Gladio.

_ When’s the next time you’re free? _

* * *

 

_ Click! _

“Hmm…”

_ Click! _

“Ugh…”

_ Click! _

“Ggnnngh!”

“Are you going to do that the whole time?” Gladio asked with his own huff of discontent. He was flipping through a book that had a beaten cover and yellow pages, the title in Latin.

“Do what?” Prompto asked as he fiddled with the focus on his camera, zeroing in on the frayed corners of the book, then the feathery ends of Gladio’s hair.

Amber eyes stared at him through the viewfinder. “Act annoyed with every photo. If they’re not turning out how you want, how about taking a break. Or trying a different topic.”

Prompto frowned at him, but didn’t lower his camera. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault Gladio was too big to fill the frame without it looking like a messy wide shot. There was so much of him to capture, it was impossible with his living room as the backdrop.

“What about that one…”

Prompto cocked his head to the side. “Which?”

“Make it tasty...? Or something like that. Take a picture of food. You’re making me feel bashful, sitting in front of a camera all day.”

Wow, Gladio could be pretty damn adorable without intending to...aaaaand Prompto did not just think that.

“The food has to be connected to you.” Prompto murmured, sitting down on the chair and ottoman set angled towards the couch. He started deleting pictures he knew he wouldn’t bother trying to edit.

“Easy,” Gladio tucked a bookmark between the pages and set the book aside. “Instant ramen and meat are my two favorite meals. Connection.”

“One, meat is not a meal, it’s just an ingredient. Two, I’m not going to take a picture of those ramen cups you like to hoard.” Prompto smiled despite himself.

“You a vegetarian or something?” Gladio asked with a vague sneer.

“What? No, I like meat- wait, you got something against vegetarians?”

“No, it would just make sense considering how little you are.” Gladio pushed himself up from where he had been stretched across the couch. Prompto had spent countless minutes arranging those long, heavy legs.

Prompto followed the man to the kitchen, squawking, “ _ Little? _ Who are you calling little! I could drop kick you so fast! I took a class on how to take down guys your size--  _ DUDE _ !”

Suddenly, the world shifted on its side as Prompto was snatched by meaty arms and flung over a broad shoulder. Hands gripped the backs of his knees securely as Prompto dangled haphazardly by his hips.

“Dude! I’m holding my camera!” Prompto wailed. Gladio pivoted, giving Prompto a clean spot on the kitchen counter to set it down securely. He hesitated - where was Gladio going with this? - before setting it down.

Only to regret his decision.

Gladio immediately flipped him and dropped him to the floor - gently, one hand cradling his head, but the motion itself had Prompto near puking point. He groaned and stared up at the spots littering his vision like black and white stars. Gladio squatted next to him, grinning like an overeager child.

“You trying to kill me?” Prompto demanded through a gasp of breath. Was he dying? He might be dying. His heart had relocated to his colon, seeking escape.

“I thought you’d be able to take down a guy my size.” Gladio teased.

“W-w-well the guys were never as big as  _ you _ . You’re some freak of nature.” Prompto huffed, pushing himself up, a warm arm supporting his back in his ascent. “Seriously, what did they feed you as a kid?”

“Meat.” Gladio beamed.

Prompto wanted to punch Gladio’s teeth in. His dazzling white teeth framed by his shapely, salmon pink lips and the shadow of shaved beard. His eyes flitted over Gladio’s face like a skittish hamster, taking in his pores, cheekbones, nostrils, his unkempt brows. He reached a hand up, and was it his imagination, or did Gladio lean forward to meet him? His fingers stroked over a line of beard hairs on Gladio’s left cheek.

“You missed a spot,” Prompto said.

Gladio reached up with the arm that wasn’t (still) cradling Prompto’s back. He didn’t swat away Prompto’s hand, only slipped his wide fingertips through Prompto’s to scrape them against the stubble. “So I did.”

The hairs on Prompto’s arms raised,  _ prick, prick, prick _ , and he snatched his hand back, stood up, brushed the seat of his jeans. He lifted his camera and twirled on his toes, putting some space between him and the monster that had just dropped him like a sack of potatoes. “Uh! You were going to make ramen, right?”

“Right, I wanted to show you something.” Gladio pushed himself off the floor and clapped his hands free of any grit on them. He opened the pantry doors and pulled out two cups of instant noodles, holding them out for Prompto to see the brand name. Prompto took a shot, Gladio pausing to give a lopsided grin for the camera. “Any food you make tastes better with good ingredients, right?” 

Prompto blinked. Wasn’t that obvious? “Uh, right…”

Gladio seemed satisfied with that. “If you take something already delicious, like this ramen here, and add the finest, freshest ingredients, what do you get?”

He was vaguely reminded of Ignis’s spiels about using fresh components to bring out the true essence of the dish, except Ignis wasn’t _ this _ dumb. Prompto sputtered out a laugh. “Fresh ingredients wasted on stale noodles?”

Gladio’s face fell, and then pulled into a dashing smirk. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

Prompto ended up telling Gladio about a show on Netflix he was watching while Gladio diced green onions and sliced raw sirloin. Gladio didn’t have an account, probably wouldn’t know how to get to the site even if Prompto sent him an instructional pamphlet, but he sounded interested enough in the premise. He asked questions, nodding at Prompto’s answers, grinning when Prompto jumbled up his words.

“You talk fast when you’re excited about something.” Gladio said as he turned off the boiling water on the stove.

“Oh...sorry.” Prompto frowned.

“It’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah…?” Wait.

“Take pictures?” Gladio raised his brows before returning his concentration on pouring the boiling water into the cups of dry noodles.

“Oh...yeah…” Wait!

* * *

 

“Noct, I have a question.” Prompto tapped his forefinger on the steering wheel at a red light. Once again he had been abruptly dismissed around eleven, the same line that it was late. Eleven was not late! Some people didn’t leave their houses to go out until eleven!

_ “What’s up?” _ Noctis said from the speakers of the car. Bluetooth was the handiest invention, in Prompto’s opinion.

Noctis was awake at eleven! Mr. I Will Die If I Don't Get My Sleep. The king of fourteen hour naps.

“If some guy told you you were cute, what would you do?” Prompto blurted out as he stepped on the accelerator.

_ “Wait, what-” _

“Well, he didn’t exactly say  _ I _ was cute, but he said it’s cute when I talk fast!” That was the same thing, right? Prompto was doing something cute, and was therefore cute by extension. 

_ “Who called you cute?” _

“And he wasn’t exactly flirting - at least I don’t think he was. He didn’t have--”

_ “Prompto, who called you cute?” _

It dawned on Prompto that he hadn’t told neither Ignis nor Noctis about Gladiolus. Still. “A guy I met.”

_ “You’re not using a dating app, are you?” _

Jeez, he signed up for tinder once. Once! “No, I met him at Hammerhead. He has this car-”

_ “The gas station?” _

“ _ Yes _ , the gas station! Noct, I’m freaking out here, bro, let me finish!”

_ “Okay, okay…” _

Prompto inhaled deeply, pushed out a shuddering breath. “I met him last week after I left your place. He has this vintage car, and I was taking pictures of it - and him - and we’ve been hanging out because he’s helping me work on my project. And tonight he said that I was cute.” When he didn’t get an immediate answer, not even a breath, he wheezed out, “Are you still there?”

_ “Yeah. Who is this guy?” _ Noct asked, a stiffness stringing his words together.

“His name is Gladiolus, like the flower, but I call him Gladio.” Prompto drawled on the end of his name.

_ “Last name?”  _ Noctis asked, his voice further away from the speaker than before.

“Do  _ not _ make Ignis google him!” Prompto whined. He turned on his blinker and glanced both ways before making his turn onto a side street. “You’re quiet, and I can hear Ignis on his laptop.”

Noctis cursed under his breath, either because he’d been caught or they had turned up zero results.  _ “So he called you cute?” _

“Yeah...do you think...he meant it?” Prompto gasped softly to himself.

_ “I’ve never met the guy, Prompto. Is he gay?” _

“I dunno!” Prompto whined. “Oh-em-gee! He wears tank tops!”

_ “Prompto, that doesn’t make him…” _ Noctis’ sigh turned into a groan.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Prompto was grasping at straws. On one hand, Gladio was so masculine it almost seemed impossible, but then, on the other hand, it wasn’t politically correct  _ at all  _ to assume all gay men wore pastels and had perfect hair. Gladio’s hair was far from perfect, full of split ends and it was a stupid mullet to boot. He didn’t care if he missed a spot while shaving, and he walked around with a chain hanging on his belt. There really was no defining feature that proved someone’s sexuality other than when they opened their mouth and confirmed it themselves.

Maybe Gladio was a man so comfortable with his sexuality and identity that he could complement other men without finding it weird - he didn’t care about social norms. Prompto envied that, because here he was, obsessing over the idea that Gladio may or may not  _ like _ like him, because he had been taught growing up that if a man compliments another man, it’s because he wants to suc- uh, hold his hand, or something.

More importantly, Gladio was honest. He said what he meant. If Prompto just asked, there would be no harm done, because Gladio would give him his genuine answer and Prompto could stop fretting over it.

But what if he said yes?

But what if he said no?

_ “Prawm-toe?”  _ Noctis yawned his name out.

“Sorry, I’ll call you later.” Prompto ended the call, and waited until he was at a red light to go through his contacts and call the name he had been looking for. It took four rings before they picked up.

_ “What’s wrong?”  _ A sleep-riddled voice asked quietly. Gladio sighed and cleared his throat several times in a span of seconds.  _ “Prompto?” _

“Uh! Hey, sorry to bother you...you were asleep?” Gladio actually went to bed at eleven-thirty? Who did that? Old people, that was who.

_ “Yeah…” _ Gladio breathed the word out, a soothing sound that had Prompto’s arms prickling. How could he do that to him over the phone?  _ “You forget something?” _

“N-no...um...why do you go to bed so early?” Prompto asked. Eleven wasn’t  _ that _ early, but someone as young as Gladio could be going out, meeting people, having a drink at a bar.

There was several long beats of quiet sounds, sheets shifting, breathing through that large nose of Gladio’s, fingernails scratching at his beard.  _ “Because I wake up at five every morning.” _

“Oh!” That was early! “W-why? Is that because of your military tra-”

_ “Prompto, why did you call me?” _

“Well, I…” He whimpered, pulling into a parking spot a block away from his dorm building - a grand miracle considering it was  _ impossible _ to find parking on campus most days. “I…”

It had been completely spur of the moment, his anxiety made his head run in circles with thoughts and finally, exhausted and near collapsing, he called Gladio, the man that was at the center of the track. To ask him.

“So, you kicked me out tonight...and the other night, because you go to bed at eleven?”

_ “Eleven, eleven-thirty, yeah.”  _ Gladio sounded alert now, and a part of Prompto felt guilty for waking him.  _ “Something wrong?” _

“I...I had thought that you didn’t like me. And that’s why you kicked me out.” Prompto spoke in a near whisper.

A chuckle wafted from the other line.  _ “You’re cute.” _

There! He said it again! And this time it was directed  _ at _ Prompto and not  _ about _ Prompto - yes, there was a difference. This was driving him crazy! His voice cracked as he stammered out a, “You think I’m cute?”

_ “That’s what I said. Can I go to sleep now?” _

“No!” Prompto barked. This was his chance, he had an opening to take the shot. Don’t let him screw this, whatever this is, up. “Uh...so...do you like me?”

There was an unwieldy silence that seemed to vacuum the oxygen out of Prompto’s car. His face burned ached from how tense he was clenching, he was afraid it might melt off his head.

Why did he even ask that? Now Gladio was going to think that  _ Prompto _ was crushing on him, when it wasn’t like that at all! Prompto was open to anything, but he’d just met the guy. They’d only hung out a total of three times - albeit for hours on end the last two visits. Sure, Gladio made him laugh, inspired him to be more confident, and was easy to talk to, but that didn’t mean that he  _ liked _ Gladio; that Gladio liked him. They were just…

“I didn’t--”

_ “Of course I like you, Prompto.” _

The car seemed to disappear from around him, and he was swallowed into a timeless wormhole.


	4. Gladio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you want some grand, romantic gesture? I think it’s a little too early for that.”

“What's this called again?” Gladio croaked through a stretch, resting his arms along the backrest of the couch.  
  
Prompto was having a touch of trouble finding the HDMI port on the side of Gladio’s wall mounted TV, but he knew asking Gladio for help wouldn’t lead to better results. “Um…it’s the first Kill Bill. You have the sword, remember?”

“Theoretically,” Gladio said, lifting the blu-ray case off the coffee table, glancing over the vague narrative on the back cover. “So...Bill isn’t killed in this one?”

“That’s a secret.” Prompto shushed him dramatically from across the den.

Prompto missed the enormous eyeroll, but he could hear it in Gladio’s tone. “Well, you elluded to there being a sequel, so- _ooo_ …”

Finally, the elusive HDMI port was conquered and Prompto made a dash for the couch as though the floor were turning to hot lava. “Shush, dude! Can’t you just watch the movie and find out?”

The roguish smile was all Prompto needed to know that Gladio was messing with him - _again_ . In the short span of days since their phone conversation in the car, Gladio’s charm and teasing had increased tenfold. They hadn’t talked about what was said, not yet, and Prompto was beginning to wonder if maybe he had interpreted _like_ into something deeper. _Like_ like, as if he had regressed back to the fifth grade when who liked who was all their tiny-tot brains could focus on.

It was ridiculous of him to obsess over it needlessly, especially if Gladio didn’t mean anything by it. He couldn’t allow it to get in the way of his project. It was too late to pick a new subject piece when he had already put so much time and effort into the goliath.

“...closer.”

“Huh?” Prompto whipped his head around, coming out of his stupor. “Whatcha say?”

Gladio stared him down from the other side of the couch for a moment before snorting. “I said you don’t have to sit all the way over there. You can move closer.”

“Oh?” Prompto raised his eyebrows, and then, after a beat, began waggling them in an obscene manner. “ _Oh_.”

“Nevermind, stay over there.”

“Nope, I’m comin’ over now!” Prompto beamed, and proceeded to bounce his ass along the couch to settle on the cushion beside Gladio’s. “Cozy.”

Gladio snorted and scrubbed his hand through Prompto’s blond mop, not quite realizing his own strength. “You’re the weirdest guy I’ve ever met, but it’s damn cute.”

Prompto whipped his head around, meeting warm amber eyes that swallowed all the oxygen within the room. A wheezing hiss escaped Prompto’s lungs, and his brow crumbled. “Okay, that’s nice of you to say, but- wait, no- I mean-”

“Take your time.” Gladio breathed out.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

“Mhm?”

“Uhh...gee, this is kind of a lotta pressure…”

“Want some help?”

“Please?”

Gladio nodded, visage contorting into something thoughtful and sober. “I told you that I liked you. You, being you, don’t know how to interpret it. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

Prompto blinked. “Good so far, but what was that about me being me?”

“We’ll get to that later.” Gladio gave another shake to Prompto’s hair. “You don’t need to overthink it. I think you’re a sweet guy. You’re genuine, thoughtful, a deep thinker. Very smart. You often think too fast and your mouth can’t keep up, and I like that. I like spending time with you.”

After several seconds that bled into a minute of silence, Prompto shook his head out, perplexed. “Wait, that’s it?”

“Yep.” Gladio grinned. “Did you want some grand, romantic gesture? I think it’s a little too early for that.”

“Well...yeah…”

“So let’s see how things go. We’ll keep an open mind, ‘kay?” Brown hair shifted as Gladio cocked his head, searching for some kind of confirmation from Prompto.

Keeping things open...that was new. Usually, Prompto jumped on the chance of someone actually liking him for once - a rare, miraculous occasion. He knew he didn’t come off as witty and charming to people. His anxiety left him tongue-tied more often than not, and when he did find the nerve to speak up, he didn’t hesitate to speak his mind. His classmates could be put off by the sudden appearance of this side of him.

But Gladio wasn’t some college kid looking to hookup or feeling lonely. He wasn’t shallow and judgemental. He was an adult with experience in all sorts of fields, and they hadn’t even covered previous relationships. The point was, it wouldn’t hurt for Prompto to take a page from Gladio’s book.

Take things slow. See where things lead to. It was smart, responsible. Prompto liked it.

“Yeah,” Prompto nodded with a newfound enthusiasm. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” Gladio turned his attention back to the movie. “I missed all of this, by the way. Why is she in a bright yellow truck that has _Pussy Wagon_ on it?”

“Ohmigod, we have to rewind.”

* * *

 

The only class he had that day was Professor Ardyn’s, and seeing as he didn’t have even half of his project done, he had no qualms about cutting. He bounced his leg in nervous habit at Noctis’s kitchen table, gnawing on his thumb nail in a relentless effort to pass the time faster.

“Hands away from your mouth.” Ignis commented in passing as he smothered the chicken breasts in the pan. “You don’t know how much dirt is under those nails.”

“Hey,” Prompto whined. He washed his hands at least three times a day, far more than the average man.

“Come stir the rice, if you’d be so kind? Unless you’d rather stare at the door until your suitor arrives?”

Prompto sputtered out an incomprehensible phrase, then quickly amended it. “He’s _not_ my suitor! We’re just keeping an open mind to the possibilities!”

The phone call felt so far off in the distant past, but in reality only nine days had passed, and in those nine days Prompto and Gladio were able to act as if nothing had changed between them. No, that was wrong - some things had changed. Their eye contact lingered for longer seconds, they spoke more about subjects they hadn’t touched before. Other than that, things remained as they were before. No unnecessary touching, no talk about their relationship.

The day before, Noctis had sent Prompto a text inviting him over for lunch with him and Ignis - it had most likely been Ignis’ idea to begin with. Prompto had asked if Gladiolus could join them, and now here they were, Ignis keeping an eye on Prompto as he stirred while Prompto kept an eye on his phone, where a text from over ten minutes ago confirmed that Gladio was on his way.

Prompto’s lips pressed into a thin pale line as he thought about the clothes Gladio alway wore - tank tops and cargo pants. Shoot, he should have told him to put on something different, especially seeing that Ignis was sporting an ironed black sweater over a white button down shirt. Ignis was always dressed for company, even his plain t-shirts were some high quality fabric one way or another. Gladio didn’t give two inches of caring towards his appearance, especially since his hair looked like it had never seen any semblance of a comb.

“Prompto-” Ignis huffed, forcibly removing the wooden spoon from the younger man. “You’re getting rice outside of the pot.”

“O-oh! Sorry!” Prompto backed out of the way.

“Go wake up Noct, your friend should be here any minute.” Ignis said as he tried to salvage the rice stuck to the outside of the pot.

Prompto didn’t bother knocking on the bedroom door on the other side of the apartment, allowing himself entrance into the dark room. He drew back the curtains to let some natural light in, turning to stare at his friend’s peaceful form. He envied Noct’s naps in a way - the man could sleep through an earthquake undisturbed, while Prompto jolted at the sound of a pen dropping.

Lucky bastard…

“WA-AKE,” Prompto bent his knees and launched himself at the bed. “UUUP-- _oof_!”

“Prompto!” Noctis hissed, jerking to get rid of the blond man on top of him. “You are dead!”

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your _best friend_!” Prompto received an elbow to his cheekbone and both men howled in pain.

“Why is your face so hard?” Noctis rubbed his arm.

“Why is your elbow so bony?” Prompto whined.

They groaned in unison before settling down in puffing grunts on the firm mattress. Prompto pulled himself up on the bed so he could lie beside Noctis. They would arrange themselves just like this in highschool, when Prompto would come over to read Noctis’ comic books or play his video games. How many days had they spent grinding in Kingdom Hearts?

They nested, in a sense. Sometimes for days - just Noctis playing video games or doing homework while Prompto scrolled through photography blogs. Those were simple times, but they were twenty now, on their way to adulthood. Prompto had grown since then, or he liked to think that he had.

A heavy knock rapped against the front door of the apartment and Prompto flung himself onto his feet, cupping his hands over his mouth. “ _Dude_! That’s _him_!”

Maybe not.

“So go answer it.” Noctis huffed, pushing himself into a sitting position on the mattress. He rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, looking ready to drift off again.

Prompto straightened out his t-shirt, pulled his pants up on his hips, then thought better of it and pushed them back down. “How do I look?”

“Stupid, as per usual.” Noctis offered a small smile.

“ _Du-ude_!” Prompto ran his fingers through his hair at the dresser mirror before jogging out of the bedroom in time to see Ignis open the door. He skidded to a stop, a nervousness encompassing him. He tried to gauge Ignis’ reaction at seeing Gladio for the first time - his friends’ opinions mattered to him, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“You must be Gladiolus. I’m Ignis.” Ignis stretched out his hand, and Prompto saw a sweatshirt clad arm reach in to give it a strong shake.

Wait, was he actually wearing clothes? Wait, of course Gladio wore clothes, just not sleeves…

“Good to meet you. Thanks for having me over.”

Ignis stepped aside and Gladio had to duck through the threshold. He had to _duck_ \- Prompto felt his knees buckle. Gladio’s size had intimidated him before, still did on some occasions, but now it was an irresistibly endearing trait.

Prompto bit his lip at the man’s attire. A black hoodie zipped up, and plain dark wash jeans. It was a relief that he owned some semblance of a normal attire, even though it was a shame that those arms were hidden from the world. Giving a helpless smile, he approached the two men-

“Would you like me to hang up your jacket?” Ignis offered, his hosting skills impeccable.

“Oh, thanks…” Gladio unzipped and shed his jacket.

_Sweet juniper berries._

Prompto’s throat ran dry as he traced the line where the sleeves of Gladio’s v-neck shirt hugged his convex biceps. _How?_ _How_ was that better than when he was in a tank top, arms completely exposed?

Amber eyes glanced at him, thick brows raised, and Prompto grinned in greeting to hide his ogling. “You finally made it!”

“You told me to come at this time.” Gladio rested his hands on his hips, and the v-neck pulled taut over his chest - nothing was left to the imagination.

“Well, y-yeah, but, you’re still late.” Prompto dodged a hand reaching for him, snickering between them. A look from Ignis had him sobering up. “Oh, have you met, uh…”

“Ignis, yeah,” Gladio smirked at Prompto's inopportune brain fart, scrubbing his hand in blond hair. He glanced past Prompto. “And you must be Noctis.”

Prompto turned to see Noctis plod into the living room with a bedhead and bemused frown.

This was far more awkward than he ever thought it would be - he had planned for years on _exactly_ how he'd introduce Noctis to his first girlfriend, but he never had one. And now he was introducing his best friend to his Gladio? Er, wait, no - his other friend. Introduce him to his other friend. Named Gladio.

“Hey. Heard a lot about you.” Noctis offered as greeting. He didn’t offer his hand like Ignis had; somehow, social formalities had been lost on him as a child.

“Ah! Yeah! Gladio, this is Noctis - Noct, this is Gladio.” Prompto waved his arms between them, his stretched out lips borderline uncomfortable. This shouldn’t be so cumbersome - was Prompto the only one who felt this way?

“Would you prefer we call you Gladio?” Ignis asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

The tall man gave a halfhearted shrug. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Indeed. Well, lunch is almost ready. Noct, would you mind helping me in the kitchen?”

Ignis and Noctis left, the shorter of the two throwing an indiscernible glance over his shoulder. What was he thinking about, Prompto wondered. What did he initially think of Gladio upon seeing him in person?

“You look like you need to take a shit.” Gladio snickered.

Prompto smacked him in his middle, and then immediately regretted it when his hand returned to him throbbing and pink. “Ow - the hell are you made out of?”

“Pure iron, baby.”

Prompto snorted louder than he meant to. “You’re so dumb. Did you find the place okay?”

“My feeble brain can handle directions. Although I did get confused at one part…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, does a red light mean go slow or go faster?”

Prompto smacked him again and howled in pain, causing a dark head of hair to peek out of the kitchen with narrowed eyes. Prompto waved off Noctis before he got any ideas and decided to turn into some protective mother rooster, or whatever the term was. “How are you so embarrassing?”

Prompto couldn’t explain why his heart lurched at Gladio’s laughter. It was the worst kind of laugh, a loud and obnoxious _‘HUH-HUH’_ that would make the normal person want to die, but Gladio...Gladio embraced who he was. And Prompto liked that a whole lot more now than he did before.

Lunch was announced, and they all gathered around the kitchen table with conversation ranging from allergies to cinema to school to Gladio’s time in the military. Gladio sat in a comfortable lean, as if they were all old friends, as if he had been a part of them the entire time. It was effortless, simple. Prompto was almost convinced that maybe once they had been here before, the four of them dining and laughing together.

Wouldn’t it be nice if they could do this all the time, Prompto found himself wondering.

Amidst his dazed musings, he caught sight of liquid amber eyes watching him from across the table. Sounds muted to his ears when he stared into those eyes, like he was underwater or floating in a void within that gaze. Did Gladio feel the same way when he looked at Prompto? Probably not. He probably had himself so put together that insecurity wasn’t even in his personal dictionary.

Except Gladio was the one to admit that he liked Prompto, and he didn’t say it until Prompto practically spooned it out of him.

Feeling boldened by the thought, Prompto stretched the toe of his shoe out, stroking it along Gladio’s foot and up his calf in a snail’s pace arc. He watched the tan face for Gladio’s reaction, waiting for a knowing smirk or raised eyebrows or-

Ignis cleared his throat. “That would be my leg, Prompto.”

Prompto withdrew his foot as if he had been burned.

Noctis blinked owlishly, glancing between Ignis and Prompto. Gladio visored his hand over his eyes as he barely contained the threat of tearful laughter. Prompto wanted the floor to swallow him whole and never spit him back out.

* * *

 

“That went better than I expected…” Prompto mused to himself as he walked Gladio to his car three hours later.

The lunch date turned into a spontaneous board game challenge when Gladio learned that Noctis owned King’s Knight in its original media before it was turned into a mobile app game. Gladio was a good sport, spurring competition between the men without being too ham about it - he even helped Prompto cheat just a smidge, although they were called out immediately.

“Did you think I’d embarrass you?” Gladio smirked, sitting on the hood of his vintage Mustang.

“N-no! It’s not that, it’s just…” Prompto scratched the back of his neck. He had imagined so many scenarios in his head - ear ringing silence as they ate, Gladio showing up in his tank top, everyone grating on each other’s nerves. He had had all these apprehensions, but now, all he wanted to do was take a picture of Gladio looking just like this.

“I’ve had to meet girlfriends’ families before. I know how to behave myself.” Gladio cocked his head to the side.

Prompto gawked like a fish in open air. “That’s not what I meant-- uh... _just_ girlfriends?”

“You asking if I’ve ever been with a man before?” Gladio always said what he meant, meant what he said. He was honest and open and unashamed.

Prompto wished he could be like that. “No...yes...maybe…”

Gladio huffed in amusement and patted the empty space next to him on the hood of his car. Prompto only took a moment to settle on it, and Gladio ran a hand through spiked blond hair. “There was a guy. Once. We met after I finished active duty. You could say it was experimental, and it didn’t amount to anything. Never met his best friends, that’s for sure.”

Prompto felt heat spiral through his cheeks, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Oh yeah?”

“I don’t want you to take that as…” Gladio sighed with an uncharacteristic shyness. “As if I’m only interested in experimenting with you. I’m old enough to know when I like someone.”

Was it possible that Gladio was as nervous as Prompto was about this entire thing? This tall, beefy, handsome man that collected swords and woke up at five every morning was nervous about someone like Prompto? Prompto, who was of average height, lanky and all legs, still spotted like a dalmation, and slept in until two in the afternoon on even the best of days?

Prompto didn’t remember moving. He didn’t recall getting the idea, or sending the signal from his brain to his body. He was sure he hadn’t even glanced at Gladio’s mouth or any other suggestive parts to put the idea in his head that he should…

Prompto’s eyelids fluttered shut, and at first, all he could feel was beard scratching his chin, then hot breath exhaled through nostrils. A scarred forehead pressed against his, a large hand combed his bangs out of the way. Then, slowly, he realized that the lips on his were warm, dry, soft. It had him leaning forward, pressing further into that thick bottom lip that moved with patience and honesty when Gladio spoke.

He sucked the lip between his teeth and snickered through his nose at the playful surge in Gladio. His hair was given a gentle tug, his head tilted just right. Calloused fingers scratched the back of Prompto’s neck.

And then they separated, Prompto keeping both hands on the car.

If only he had his camera set up on the tripod - he was itching to see what they looked like. Probably something akin to a wild beast devouring a wounded gazelle. Not that Prompto was complaining.

Gladio swallowed audibly, and their eyes held each other in a calm laziness. There was no stiff atmosphere, no regret, no questions. For once, Prompto was _very_ comfortable.

Dark eyebrows raised, Prompto nodded, and knuckles threaded through blond tresses as lips overlapped once more.


	5. Big Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m like some sleazy pervert, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am reaching the end of what's already written out...but how are y'all liking these every day updates?

Prompto stared at the spread on the table before them with glittering eyes and a watering mouth.

After a rather successful series of the camera shutter fluttering rapidly, and Prompto performing brief victory dances, Gladio offered to treat him to dinner - quickly promising that it wouldn’t be ramen when he saw blue eyes narrow in suspicion. He took them out in his Mustang convertible and parked it on a side street in the city. They only had to walk two blocks to get to the place, and Prompto marveled at how many people were packed into the brick building on the street corner.

The restaurant turned out to be a Caribbean and Latin inspired theme, with all kinds of spiced and tangy dishes getting passed around tables. It was Taco Tuesday, which explained the mass of customers. They managed to squeeze into a table in the corner, Gladio taking up far too much room for the small space.

They ordered one of each specialty taco, two if both Prompto and Gladio wanted it to themselves. The table’s surface was covered in food, there was no room for Prompto’s Dr. Pepper or Gladio’s beer.

“Don’t touch anything!” Prompto hissed when Gladio’s meaty paw reached out to help himself. He snatched his hand back as though he had been burned. “I gotta take pics for snapchat!”

“Ohmigod, hurry up.”

When he posted the perfect angle with the perfect lighting and filter, Prompto took a chomp out of a ‘Calypso Beef’ taco (whatever that meant) and moaned loud and lewd. He narrowed his eyes at the raised eyebrows sitting across from him. “Oh, like you’ve never had a foodgasm before.”

“All the time.” Gladio chuckled, pointing to the corner of his mouth to indicate a spot for Prompto to lick clean. “But I don’t sound nearly as good as you do.”

“Uh!” Prompto licked his lips clean and grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Good to know.” Gladio crammed an entire taco in his mouth, ignoring the admonishing gasp from Prompto.

“The food here is  _ amazing! _ ” Prompto said after they had nearly polished off more than half of the plates. “I gotta tell Noct and Iggy about this place. Ignis likes to steal recipes from restaurants and remake them at home with his own twist.”

“Hell, if I could get food like this at home whenever I wanted, I’d do the same.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame that you only know how to boil water.” Prompto shoved a taco in his mouth to hide his smile. He dodged the guacamole flicked at him, gasping at the larger man’s audacity. “Hey!”

“How’s your project going? I’m not familiar with what happens to the pictures you take of me.” Gladio inquired between sucking his fingers clean. He was sloppy, but it was dreadfully endearing.

Prompto’s lips press into a hesitant smile. He was certain the topic would bore Gladio after two sentences, but he gave it a go. “Well, I take the SD card from my camera and I edit the shots on my computer. Fixing exposure, touching up an out of place hair. Small stuff - like if you had a booger hanging out of your nose for an entire day and we didn’t catch it.”

“Have I had a booger hanging out of my nose for a whole day?” Gladio blinked.

“Not tellin’.” Prompto smirked, and this time he didn’t dodge the guac.

“What else?”

Elation filled him like a helium balloon, and Prompto grinned from ear to ear. “Well, my teacher doesn’t like photoshopped pictures - says only fake photographers use photoshop to make their photos better.”

“Huh…” Gladio glanced down at the remaining tacos, reaching for one with jalapeños on top. “Do you agree with that?”

“No, not really. I mean...I think it’s a real elitist way of looking at photography. If you want to edit in a galaxy in someone’s eyes, then why not? Photography should be fun and people shouldn’t be ashamed of letting their imagination run wild.”

“Well, as long as you’re having fun, that’s what matters right?”

Prompto felt lost for a moment in the question. It left a hollow feeling in his gut. “Huh?”

Gladio raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “You are having fun, aren’t you?”

“Yeah...of course I am.”

Thick lips pressed into a thin, unconvinced line.

Prompto shook his head, dismissing Gladio’s concern. “Don’t get me wrong, I really love being behind the camera. It’s just this class is a little soul sucking. My professor is a weirdo and dresses like a hobo, and not in a good way. He’s very judgemental and will nitpick at one tiny detail, blowing it out of proportion. But I need to ace this class so I can finally move on to freelancing or something.”

Gladio bit a taco in half and chewed thoughtfully all while staring Prompto down. It was a tad nerve wracking, but Prompto understood that Gladio was merely thinking of what to say. Finally, he swallowed and licked his lips clean. “Is there a good way to dress like a hobo?”

Prompto smacked his forehead with his hand. Honestly, this man was totally hopeless sometimes.

* * *

 

“Perfect…” Prompto muttered caustically into the air. The lighting in this room was messing with him, he was certain of that, and his subject was fidgeting nonstop. He pressed down on the shutter, paused, lowered his camera. “Gladio...don’t look directly at me.”

“Can’t help it.” Gladio smirked. He ran his hand through his hair, and Prompto didn’t let the chance to capture it on film pass him by. The goliath laughed. “You’re obsessed.”

Prompto stepped into his space to comb the stray strands back into place. “Don’t  _ move _ .”

He took some more photos before setting down his camera with a sigh. This wasn’t going how he planned. They were on the topic of window lighting, and Gladio  _ looked _ good enough, but not…

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t you look a little more natural?”

“How do you expect me to look natural in this stiff environment?” Gladio gave an exaggerated gesture to their surrounding area.

They were situated in the window seat nestled in Gladio’s kitchen. It looked out into the fenced in backyard, the amur corktree making for a nature-esque backdrop. Prompto wondered to himself if this was even the setting he wanted - if they went into the city, found a building with windows that looked out onto the skyline…

“You want natural, then let's go camping.”

Prompto blinked. That was the last thing he expected to hear. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I am dead serious, big boy. Ever been camping?” Gladio swung his legs around to the floor and pushed himself up.

“Once, with Noct and Iggy.” He gaped, realization dawning on him. Gladio was ready to go - he was ready to pack his bags and take them camping at that very moment. “Wait, you want to go now?”

“Why not? Tomorrow is Saturday. It can be a weekend trip. I know a place not far from here. Not even an hour drive.” Gladio pressed his hands into his back pockets. “What was that one topic you have to cover? ‘One with nature,’ or something like that?”

It was  _ nature’s finest _ , but he wasn’t wrong there, Prompto thought. “Uh, well, I guess? It’s just last minute, and I would need to pack…”

“We don’t have to if you’re not up to it. Camping isn’t for everyone.” Gladio flashed a grin that showed off straight white teeth.

That was a glaringly obvious taunt, and Prompto wasn’t about to fall for it. A week had passed since Prompto had introduced Gladio to his friends, making it a month since they had first met. He still remembered when he had been skeptical of Gladio’s identity, assuming he was some axe murderer or escaped convict. And now they were going on a camping trip together? For an entire weekend?

Oddly, red flags were not puncturing his brain at the moment. At least, not the ones that should be - going out into the woods with someone he’s known for only a month. Instead, he thought about taking a dump in the woods and bad body odor, and the possibility of seeing Gladio naked.

His knees nearly gave out from under him.

He followed Gladio into the garage and watched as the man lifted a step stool off its hanger on the wall and opened it, next to a metal shelving unit connected to the wall - how anything was out of a giant like Gladio’s reach was a Seventh Wonder of the World. He pulled down some items in canvas bags, the product label on the side reading  _ Coleman _ .

“Pack some sensible clothes. Extra pairs of socks and underwear. Shoes for hiking. Don’t worry about anything else, I’ll bring all the essentials.” Gladio told him as he handed him items to bring into the kitchen.

They met up once more in an hour, Prompto dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of Gladio’s car. He moved his own car inside the garage, and they took off in the Mustang by half past one.

Wind whipped Prompto’s hair in his face, and he smiled helplessly as he took a selfie with his phone. He wasn’t one to look at wilderness and think something cheesy, like ‘ah, this is what freedom feels like,’ but he was close to it. He turned in his seat, taking another picture with Gladio driving.

“You don’t have a Facebook or anything, huh?” Prompto asked, preoccupied by the image. Gladio looked at peace behind the wheel - he had this quiet eagerness to him. The man must really like camping, but Prompto hoped that his presence had something to do with it, too, if maybe just a teensy bit.

“Nah, I don’t get all of that. I like my privacy, and I don’t want to know how many keg stands some dude I haven’t seen in ten years did the other night.” Gladio grunted as he slowed for a curve in the road.

That made sense. Prompto wasn’t big on oversharing, he just wanted people to see his photos, his expressions. This was his art, but it wouldn’t be worth anything if he didn’t put it out there for the world to see.

“Shame...I wanted to tag you.” Prompto pursed his lips and scrolled through his apps.

“Tag me? Like graffiti?” Gladio asked in bemusement.

“What, no, like...how old are you?” Why hadn’t he asked this before? He didn’t really know anything about Gladio, what he did for a living, where he went to school, if he grew up in Lucis or came from somewhere far away. Basic facts on Gladio were lost to him, but he knew oddities - Gladio liked instant ramen more than life itself; he was an early to bed, early to rise kind of man; he believed in equality and that every creature had the right to live.

Those were the important details, he supposed, but he wanted to hold every corner of Gladio in his hands, unfold him completely.

Gladio tapped a finger against his bearded chin, as if he had to think about it. “Twenty-eight. I’ll be twenty-nine in April.”

He was almost ten whole years older than Prompto, and blue eyes widened comically. He expelled air between his lips, leaning his head against the headrest on his seat.

“I’m like some sleazy pervert, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty?”

“Twenty, yeah,” Prompto hummed. “Guess you are a huge sleaze balling pedophile, huh?”

“Now you’re pushing it. Pedophiles prefer prepubescent kids, and while you just barely pass that...”

“Watch it.” Prompto snapped.

Gladio snorted in amusement, but understood that his life depended on whether he continued or not. 

“Well how old was the other guy that you dated?” Prompto was taking a chance - he wasn’t sure how willing Gladio would be in divulging such information. If he ticked him off now, they could be in for an awkward trip.

A thick lip jutted out in thought. “He was only three years younger than me.”

“Not so creepy.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a first.”

Wait, did Gladio mean Prompto was his first relationship with such a big age gap, or was he alluding to other things. “Oh yeah? Would you say that you’re--”

“How about I ask  _ you _ some questions, instead.” Gladio glanced at him for only a moment, then averted his gaze back to the road.

“Huh? Uh, sure! Okay…” He scrubbed his phone screen with his thumbs, a nervous habit. It was true that Gladio never asked him about his life, only waited with patience for Prompto to reveal small pieces at a time. Prompto was the one always pushing, always inquiring and delving for information. “What do you wanna know?”

“I already saw that Noctis can fish like a pro, and Ignis is an excellent cook, but do  _ you _ have any survival skills?”

Prompto blinked. That was not what he had been expecting. He was so sure that Gladio would poke and prod right back at him; ask about past relationships and crushes. From his question, though, it sounded like he wasn’t at all interested in that topic - and realizing that only made Prompto’s stomach churn with an embarrassed anxiety.

_ Tap-tap-tap _ , he pressed thumb prints against the dark screen. “I don’t have a skill, per se...but I’m  _ really _ good at getting people to feed me.”

Gladio’s dumb laughter took him by surprise, the guffaw akin to a sea lion at the zoo. “You’re a real idiot.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll teach you some fundamentals while we’re out here.”

Prompto beamed. “Thanks!”

“And I’ll take you some place amazing for some pictures.”

“Even better!”

* * *

 

Pitching a tent was  _ way _ harder than it looked, and Prompto was far too drained to even try to make an innuendo out of that.

When Gladio said camping, Prompto didn’t think they would have to  _ hike _ three miles to Gladio’s preferred spot, or that he’d have to chop three days worth of firewood with a  _ real  _ axe,  _ or _ that he’d be forced to build the tent while Gladio gave sharp instructions. He whined and griped the entire time, earning a smack to his head or ass or somewhere in between. Again, he was too tired to joke about spanking.

After hours of preparing their site, Prompto collapsed in a folding chair and whimpered to himself. His back and feet ached, his stomach was growling at two minute intervals, and he was getting bitten by mosquitos!

Why had he agreed to this again?

“Stand up.” Gladio came over to him, pressing a heavy hand on the back of Prompto’s chair.

“Dude,  _ please _ ! Let me rest…” He sighed.

“You’re going to get eaten alive if you don’t let me spray you now.” Gladio patted his shoulder insistently. 

Prompto pushed himself up and let the man cover his exposed skin with an unmarked can. A scent akin to week old garbage basking beneath the sun in a tar pit while an alligator sprayed its swamp diarrhea over it encompassed Prompto’s nostrils. “Ugh,  _ yuck _ , what is that stuff?”

“Military grade bug spray. Our best kept secret.” Gladio smirked, probably thinking he was so damn clever.

Prompto rolled his eyes so hard they could have rotated straight out of their sockets. “And this will keep the bugs off me for tonight?”

“For a week.” Gladio gave a last spritz to the back of Prompto’s freckled neck, and rubbed in the wet patch with his calloused fingers. “It’s waterproof.”

Prompto spun around, the corners of his mouth twitching in an uncontained grimace. “But it stinks!”

“Calm down. I’ll help you get it off when we get home.” Amber eyes searched the verge-of-panic face, and a hand reached up to brush Prompto’s bangs away from his forehead. “You’ll be fine.”

Prompto wanted to believe that, but at the moment his nose burned from the acrid fumes.

“You hungry?” Gladio stepped over to the metal box he had lugged to the site with them. He unlocked the padlock with a key he produced from his pocket and opened it to reveal several layers of instant ramen cups and other miscellaneous items.

Prompto’s throat ran dry at the litter of white cups. “I like ramen as much as the next guy, but I think you like them a little  _ too _ much, big guy.”

“I also have fruits and nuts if you don’t want this.” Gladio turned his nose up.

“So the options are fruits and nuts, or instant noodles…” Why had he left the packing to Gladiolus?

With limited options, Prompto resigned to his fate without further complaint. He sat with his legs crossed in his chair, blowing on each forkful of noodles before scooping them into his mouth. Gladio gave equivocal descriptions on their plans for tomorrow - ‘show you something cool, find a nice spot for picture taking or whatever you call it.’ Whatever you call it. Like it was difficult for him to produce the word photography.

Prompto’s bad mood only worsened - he smelled bad, his feet ached, he was exhausted - and he gave churlish replies right back that dropped them into a thorny silence. Gladio disposed of the food, offering to show Prompto the proper way to do so, but Prompto retreated to the tent and to his phone.

_ Maybe this was a bad idea _ , he texted Noctis, thumb hovering over the send button. Noct had told him not to go when he messaged his friend about the spontaneous camping trip. Of course he had been right, Noct was normally aloof, but he tended to think along the right path…

Gladio ducked inside the tent, zipping it shut behind him. Prompto turned off his phone screen without sending the message, sitting up on his sleeping bag.

“I forced you on this trip, I know.” Gladio jumped right in without a warning or offering.

Prompto opened his mouth to protest, because in all honesty, he was an adult and could make his own decisions. For Gladio to take the blame upon himself was more ridiculous than the situation itself. But before he could speak up, a large palm cut him off.

“I shouldn’t have suggested it in the first place. We haven’t known each other very long, and I got ahead of myself. We can go back in the morning, and we’ll never talk about this again. Or if you never want to talk to me-”

“Is that what you want?” Prompto blurted out. He hadn’t meant to rush through the question, hadn’t meant to say it at all, but his heart was beating so hard against his ribcage he was fairly certain he was having a heart attack - or something very close to it.

Why was he more worried about ruining his chances with Gladio than losing his art subject?

“Hey,” Gladio clipped in an abrasive tone. It reminded Prompto of the day they first met, when Gladio caught Prompto by his car. “You need to take a deep breath right now.”

Golden lashes batted rapidly, Prompto thoroughly taken aback. Gladio had never been spoken to him this way before…

“You’re going to give yourself a panic attack if you don’t calm down and quit jumping to conclusions.” Gladio groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. He frowned down at Prompto, scratching at his beard thoughtfully. “No. I don’t want to go back tomorrow. No, I don’t want you to never talk to me again. If you really think that, then you are the biggest idiot alive.”

“Hey!”

“Lifetime achievement award for being the biggest-”

“Stop, stop, stop! Okay, okay...I get it. I took it too far. But what was I supposed to think when you’re spewing stuff like that? I’m not the only one jumping to conclusions!” Prompto huffed. Being discreet about it, he placed a hand against his chest. His heart was still pounding, but oddly he felt placated.

Gladio gave a twisted scowl that scrunched up his entire face. “Maybe I was. The point is - we don’t have to do this.” After a pause, he clarified. “Camping. Outdoors. I just thought it would help.”

Prompto scratched the back of his head, staring down at the tarp flooring for a long minute. Camping was not his thing. He was definitely a four walls and a roof kind of guy, a television and microwave popcorn kind of guy, a solid mattress and thirty dollar comforter set from Target kind of guy. But he could be a sweat and dirt and unbearable sunshine kind of guy for two days - for Gladio.

“You’re right...it will help. I need it for my project, and getting out of the city is  _ good _ …” He winced.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Gladio huffed, sobering up.

“Sorry, I hate camping. But I wanna do this with you.” His face dropped at the admission. “My. Photography class. Project. I want to do my project with you. In a totally normal project kind of way--”

Gladio closed the distance between them, catching Prompto’s lips in his. It was nothing like in the movies, Prompto noticed with a hint of betrayal at the back of his mind. Gladio didn’t open up to Prompto, didn’t mouth at his lips for a deeper kiss, didn’t clutch the back of his head in desperation. In fact, he departed from the kiss far too soon.

“I think I’ve found the most effective way to shut you up.” Gladio stared down his nose at the blushing man. “Incredible.”

“Wha-” Prompto finished with an incensed huff. He twisted his middle around and snatched up his pillow, smacking it against Gladio’s arm. “Bastard.”

“Oh, you wanna play like that, huh?” Gladio gave a coltish growl, launching himself at Prompto.

“Gladio!” Prompto yelped upon impact. “You’re gonna break me!”

“That’s the idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And then Prompto was broken and the story was over.


	6. Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto hated that the creative part of his brain took the chance to supply him with the image of a tight waisted woman with a bountiful bosom and shapely calves clinging to Gladio as he made vigorous and earth shattering love to her. She was a redhead and her name was Anastasia.

Prompto was roused with something solid plopping on his lap. He shifted in his sleeping bag, blindly feeling his hand around until he found the culprit. He lifted it to his face, squinting at a green apple. How the hell had an apple gotten in the tent?

A loud crunch brought his attention to the shirtless figure sitting in front of the tent’s entrance, an apple held to his mouth. Prompto’s eyes assessed the man for a long time before his lips fell open.

“Your nipples are pierced?” He whined as if Gladio had just told him that he’d broken his camera. And that wasn’t even the most important part! His scar! It was in plain view now, stretching across his pectorals in a diagonal line and cutting into the beak of his hawk tattoo. What had happened to warrant such an ugly wound? It was as if someone had tried to kill him…

Gladio scoffed and bits of soggy apple flew from his mouth. “You just noticed?”

“I just thought your nipples were always hard…” Prompto admitted unabashedly. He sat up with a groan, glancing down at his apple. Smooth, unblemished. Very much unlike Gladio. He lifted his gaze.

“Like ‘em?” Gladio took another bite of his own apple.

Prompto’s cheeks colored. It was far too early to be admiring some guy’s nipples, let alone complimenting them. “What time is it?”

He turned and picked up his phone, unlocking the screen. The text message to Noct was still there, unsent. He read over it once more - the tone felt so different now. He deleted it, and exited to the home screen. It was four minutes past seven, and his brain reminded him that Gladio woke up at five every morning.

“Uh...have you been waiting on me?” Prompto asked.

“Not really. I went for an uphill run, did some pushups and sit-ups. Usual routine stuff. Feels good to do it in the open air.”

“Ugh, you’re such a muscle monkey.” Prompto bit into the apple.

“Well, we’re all evolved from apes.” Gladio shrugged. He patted Prompto’s foot through the sleeping bag twice. “Eat your apple, get changed. We’ll go brush our teeth in the river and head on our way.”

Prompto had to thank whatever higher power that was up there for looking out for him that day, because the trail they trekked that morning was shade by a canopy of striking greens and yellows, and Gladio didn’t take them far enough to incite aching thighs and calves. He also had to thank that power for the remarkable photo ops he had been given during the trail to their destination.

Gladio kept his white t-shirt draped over one shoulder rather than wearing it like a normal human person, and his black joggers hung low on his hips - it took all of Prompto’s will power not to clog the memory card in his camera with backside shots of Gladio. Those back dimples had to be illegal in some countries, Prompto was sure of it.

They would stop at certain sites so Gladio could point out a poisonous plant or edible berries and mushrooms to Prompto. Don’t eat this, don’t pee on that - that was all Prompto gathered from most of the explanations. He took shots of Gladio hovering his hand over shrubbery or pointing at a moss covered rock, indicating which direction north was - and how that was a myth, too. Prompto wasn’t sure in the point of telling him about it in the first place.

When they finally reached their destination, it was quarter to ten in the morning and Prompto had to admit, it was worth the walk, the three mile hike from the day before, _and_ the bug spray.

“Whoa…” Prompto craned his neck back to see the top of the rushing waterfall fixed before him. “I’ve heard of this place, but I never bothered coming out here to see it.”

He took some shots of the unbelievable scenery before ushering Gladio ahead of him, ordering the man to act as natural as possible. What he didn’t expect was the cheesiest finger-guns pose he had ever seen in his life.

“Be serious!” Prompto barked while throwing his head back in laughter.

“I am completely serious.” Gladio called back, winking.

“Okay, stand there!” Prompto ordered, trotting over to fix the man into a position he wanted. “I want to try different angles, so you gotta--”

Gladio pulled him into a chaste kiss that was more like two smiles pressed together than anything else.

“Are you just trying to get me to shut up?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Bastard. Let me do my homework, please and thank you.” Prompto gave a loud, smacking kiss to Gladio’s cheek and returned to where he had been standing several feet away.

It only dawned on him, from that distance, that he had just quite comfortably given a grown ass man a kiss on the cheek. He was becoming increasingly complacent around Gladio at an accelerated pace - and he wasn’t even sure when they had evolved past basic human interaction, or if they had ever started from that point to begin with.

After a half hour of the shutter snapping at rapid speed, Prompto deemed them done with this spot.

“You were right, this place really is cool.” Prompto sighed in gratifaction as Gladio finally pulled on his shirt, and he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or dissatisfied.

“Oh, this isn’t the cool thing I wanted to show you.” Gladio lifted his backpack off the ground and waved for Prompto to follow him along the mouth of the river that let out into the ocean.

Prompto couldn’t believe he’d never dragged himself out of town far enough to know about this place. The area was nearly untouched, save for an interstate bridging crossing the river above the waterfall just a mile away. This kind of beauty really made Prompto feel like he was wasting his time in the city, amongst skyscrapers and giant screen TVs.

Applying for a job at a nature magazine didn’t sound like the worst idea right about now, even if he hated bugs and had a newfound paranoia for squatting over poison oak while taking a dump.

The ground dipped severely the closer they got to shore, rock and dirt slipping from beneath their feet - the trail was sorely unused that the constant presence of feet hadn’t packed the dirt down. Gladio reached over to grip the elbow of the arm Prompto was holding the camera with, steadying him in his descent.

Prompto grabbed some shots of the waterfront as they made their way down the sandy trail, Gladio warning him when a rock came into his path.

“You can’t take any pictures of the place we’re going.” Gladio spoke sullen and quiet.

“Huh?”

“It’s a secret place. You should experience it for yourself, not from behind your camera.”

The path became littered with boulders and small tide pools, slanting upwards. Prompto took a few more snaps before packing his camera away carefully. They had to climb over smooth, white stones for half a mile before they reached a cliffside and water, the beach ending.

“We’ll hide our things here.” Gladio said, pointing to a wide divot in the rocks.

“Hide?” Prompto gawked.

“Well yeah, you don’t want any animals getting to your stuff.” Gladio said, dropping his backpack in, then sitting down to remove his shoes and socks. His shirt went next, then his--

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Prompto squawked unintelligibly. He pressed his hands over his burning cheeks, but didn’t exactly turn away from the man undressing in front of him. In fact, his eyes lowered to the bunched abs, the small belly rolls from the position Gladio was sitting in, the dark happy trail that dipped beneath the waistband of green boxer briefs.

“Don’t wanna get our clothes wet,” Gladio said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If you’re that bothered, we can keep our underwear on.”

Prompto sputtered, actual saliva dripping down his lips. “Y-you wanna s-skinny dip? In broad daylight?”

“That was the idea.” Gladio propped a knee up and rested his arm across it, smirking up at Prompto. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

Prompto flushed. “I am not chicken! I just...if I am to be arrested, I’d rather be fully clothed.”

“We’re not gonna get arrested.” Gladio rolled his eyes and pushed himself, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. “Keeping the panties on, or no?”

Prompto’s eyes rested a little too long on the clear outline of what lie beneath the green fabric. His stomach clenched involuntarily, mind supplying him with alternatives for what it looked like beyond any reasoning. He swallowed, thick and audible. This was crazy, he had never even looked at another man like this, especially not one as tall and broad as Gladio.

“Keep them on…” He murmured into his hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see another man’s ba-jingles in the afternoon sun.

“Y’know, you don’t have anything I don’t have.”

“You don’t know that!” Prompto argued with a pathetic moan. “I...I could have an echidna penis for all you know!”

“Can’t say I know what that looks like.” Gladio scratched his beard in thought.

“Not the point, dude!”

“I’m just teasing, calm down.” Gladio’s lips twisted into a helpless grin, his hands raising in the air in surrender. “Okay then, keeping them on.”

Prompto stripped down to his briefs at a snail’s pace, peeking over his shoulder to see if Gladio was watching, but the man seemed eager to distract himself with packing his clothes away in his bag.

“You gonna take all day?” Gladio asked after some time had passed

“No!” Yes, he told himself.

“I’m going to go ahead and jump in. Join me when you’re ready.

Prompto blinked and whipped his head around to see Gladio taking long strides before propelling himself off the edge of the rock. Prompto scrambled after him to the ledge just in time to watch Gladio crash into the water with a tidal wave-sized splash erupting in every direction, disappearing beneath the sun-reflecting surface. It was way deeper than it looked, and Prompto suddenly remembered his fear of water from when he was a child - he had nearly drowned in a public pool when he was only five, and it took him years to get over the traumatic experience.

He inhaled sharply. He had been so sure he was over that. Maybe he should tell Gladio that he couldn’t do this - it was a long drop, lots of water, no sandy bank to crawl on for safety. Just rocks, some soft, some sharp.

‘Gladio resurfaced with a gasp for air, and he reached up to slick his wet hair back and out of his face. He grinned up at Prompto, giving him a thumbs up.

And Prompto had to ask himself: was he really afraid of a little water when _that_ was down there, waiting for _him_?

“Okay Prompto...you can do this buddy…” He muttered to himself. He went back over to his things, packed his clothes away in his bag, and stored it away with Gladio’s. “We can do this…”

He didn’t give himself a chance to chicken out. He stepped into a run, and leapt right off the edge. It seemed like no time at all before he hit the water several feet away from Gladio. The water swirled around him, tiny air bubbles licking at his arms, legs, and back. Had he ever been in water this deep?

He didn’t try to open his eyes, only followed the natural pull of his body rising towards the surface, and began kicking until he broke water.

“Not so bad, right?” Gladio’s voice rumbled as he swam over to meet Prompto.

Prompto hadn’t been to a pool or an ocean in forever, had forgotten what it was like to have to keep kicking to remain with his head above water. “It’s cold…”

“Well it is only February.” Gladio combed Prompto’s wet bangs out of his face, smoothed blond brows down with his thumb. His fingers were rough, even wet. “You’ll get used to it.”

Prompto huffed despite closing his eyes to the pampering. “Is this what you wanted to show me? Ball-freezing water and wet rocks?”

“No, it’s this way.” Gladio maneuvered around him less than gracefully, and Prompto flushed when he felt a furry leg brush his beneath the water.

He followed Gladio with awkward doggy paddling as they rounded the cliffside jutting out of the water on their left. Their campsite was somewhere up there, Prompto realized as he recalled the gentle slopes they had walked down earlier in the day.

When they reached the other side of the bend, Prompto blinked up at a lighthouse that was perched on another cliffside a handful of miles away. “I didn’t know there was one of those around here.”

“Yeah, it’s not in operation anymore. Not much trade happens by port anymore.” Gladio explained. “We’re here.”

The words ran together so smoothly Prompto almost didn’t realize what Gladio had said. He whipped his head around and gasped audibly at the opening in the side of the cliff. It couldn’t have been more than eight feet wide, six feet tall; and could be easily missed from high ground due to the barnacle covered rocks breaking the water’s surface in front of it.

“Want to go inside?” Gladio asked in a challenging tone.

“Maybe…” Prompto rubbed his salty lips together. “Are there bats in there?”

Gladio laughed. “Weren’t any the last time I was here.”

Prompto frowned at that, because that wasn’t reassuring in the slightest, but the older man was already swimming inside. He paddled after Gladio, glancing at the ceiling when they entered. There was limited light inside even though it was early afternoon, the cave going several yards deep.

“There’s a small embankment we can sit on in the back.” Gladio told him as they swam further inside.

“The water is even colder in here…” Prompto whimpered.

Gladio chuckled. “Almost there.”

True to his word, there was a narrow embankment that jutted out of the water and sloped gently enough for them to be able to lie down on it. The darkness was the only reason Prompto was comfortable with sitting outside of the water, his stripes and spots invisible for now.

“Told you it was cool.” He could hear the smirk in Gladio’s voice beside him.

Prompto hummed. It was neat, but the apprehension that cave bats might swoop down and lay eggs in his ear canal - or whatever they hell they did as an attack - kept him on edge. “How’d you find this place?”

Gladio scratched his beard next to him. “My sister and I found it when we were little. My dad would take us camping around here, and we just came upon it while racing. I come back every now and then, to clear my head.”

“Clear your head?”

“Yeah, the darkness and the cold water and the quiet...helps me think better.”

There was still so much he didn’t know about Gladio, so many edges and curves to him that were hard to decipher without the bigger picture to guide each piece into place. It wasn’t a problem now, after only knowing each other for a month, but something told Prompto that even in time, he may never know all of Gladio’s secrets.

“ _You_ have a lot to think about?” Prompto teased to rid himself of the anxiety creeping at the back of his neck.

“Keep up the jokes about me being a dumb meathead, watch what happens.” Gladio said.

“Okay,” Prompto pressed. “How much room does your brain have to think with all that muscle in the way?”

“Enough room to think about how cute you are when you snore.” Gladio jabbed right back, grabbing Prompto’s knee and dragging him across the slime covered rock they were lounging on.

“Whoa!” Prompto’s entire body pulled taut at the sudden relocation, but his mind worked too slow for him. “I _do not_ snore!”

“Mm, but you do. Sounds like a mountain goat, actually.” Gladio didn’t see the hand coming at his face. “Hey! Watch it!”

“ _You_ watch it! Or you’re never going to hear the sultry sounds of this mountain goat ever again!”

“Oh yeah?” Gladio’s voice dropped an octave, his hands encasing Prompto’s waist.

“U-uh...yeah…” Prompto gulped. “Gladio?”

“Yes Prompto?” An innocent pang.

“W-what are you doing there?” He could barely discern the man’s features, let alone his intentions.

“Oh nothing...just _this_.”

Prompto threw his head back with a vociferous laugh that echoed throughout the cavern as his sides were assaulted by calloused fingers without warning. He wriggled and writhed for several unbearable minutes, beating a fist against a solid chest and clawing uselessly at the embankment.

“D- _dude_ ! Stop! _Ha!_ Are you for real?”

Gladio surged forward, encompassing Prompto’s torso with his own. He pressed his lips to the corners of Prompto’s mouth, halting at the soft gasp of breath Prompto released. “Is this okay?”

Prompto blinked. It was easy to forget that Gladio had his own misgivings when it came to their relationship; that he didn’t have all the answers, that he was afraid of taking things too far or getting hurt in the process. He hadn’t told these things to Prompto in so many words, but Prompto could feel it in his hesitations when Gladio touched him with a raw tenderness.

Prompto clutched the damp head of hair between his hands and tugged Gladio down to him, kissing him with a rush of force. There, in the dark, dripping cave, his legs submerged in cold water, his back on a slick rock that was covered in who knew what, in the least ideal circumstances, there he was finally kissed like in all the movies.

Wet tongues clashed, lips melded together, teeth grinded in short measures. Gladio’s hands stroked Prompto’s arms, his chest and sides, always stopping at his hips and gliding right back up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Prompto turned his body into Gladio’s, unwittingly pressing his thigh against narrow hips. The kiss couldn’t have been longer than a full minute before a large paw cupped Prompto’s jaw and held him there while Gladio lifted his head.

“Let’s put a bookmark here,” Gladio said, throaty and deep. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

Prompto blinked. Had he taken things too far? Wait, why was he second guessing himself? Gladio was the one behind the wheel right then, and if Gladio thought they were going too far, then Prompto wasn’t going to argue.

Gladio moved to lie on his back and Prompto followed the body heat, settling his head on Gladio’s bicep and staring up at the ceiling. This was nice. It was warm, and comfortable, and chaste. He had never been in this position with Gladio before. Even in the tent the night before they had been lying three feet apart in their separate sleeping bags.

“You never told me that you had a sister.” Prompto spoke up to fill the silence that had engulfed them. It was eerie in the cave.

“No?” Gladio sounded genuinely surprised. “Thought I had.”

“Nope, you hadn’t. What’s her name?”

“Iris.”

“How old is she?”

Gladio made a strangled noise in his throat. “Twenty-two.”

Prompto let the number settle in his ears, turn over, even worded them back to himself in silence. He sputtered out a surprised laugh. “You’re dating a guy two years younger than your own sister.”

The laughter died as soon as it started when he realized Gladio wasn’t joining in.

“Uh…”

“ _Are_ we dating?” The quiet voice didn’t sound like Gladio one bit.

“Huh?”

“You just said we were dating.”

Prompto clenched his jaw shut tight and turned his head to stared up at the dark ceiling above them. He had just said that- he couldn’t take it back now. A part of him insisted that dating meant _going_ on dates. Did this count as a date? It wasn’t an ideal one, in Prompto’s humble opinion - he wanted to go to the movies to see trending genres and shove popcorn in his mouth. He wanted to walk around the city’s nightlife and capture magical moments that could only happen in split seconds, if you’re looking carefully. And, above all, he wanted to do those things with Gladio.

He rubbed his forearms, ghosting fingers over raised hairs. “Yeah...I did. We’re keeping an open mind still...right?”

Gladio hummed his confirmation in an immediate response. His bicep twitched as if he were ready to grapple Prompto into a hug, but thought better of it. This was their first time lying together like this, touching. It wasn’t some fragile thing that could be broken in an instant, but they both seemed keen on the idea that it could be. One of them had to make the move before they grew stale and pruny. And, finally, Gladio did.

He rolled over, putting his weight on the shoulder that was under Prompto’s head. His eyes were the only features visible visible on his face, breath hot against Prompto’s face. “I am so fond of you.”

Prompto squeaked, clasping a hand over his mouth as soon as the sound escaped. He narrowed his eyes at the laugh Gladio emitted, and grumbled, “What are you, some eighteenth century poet?”

Gladio laid his chin on Prompto’s forehead, a scratchy, broad thing, and inhaled sharply. “As fair art thou, my bonie lass - or shall I call thee, bony ass - so deep in luve am I, and I will luve thee still, my dear, till all the seas gang dry.”

Prompto had stopped breathing all together as Gladio’s voice lifted and fell through the lines like a rising tide. He spoke it like a cultivated scholar of the fine arts, and Prompto would know because he took the best naps in his fine literatures class thanks to that kind of lilt.

He tilted his head back so his nose brushed along the underside of Gladio’s chin. “What the heck was that?”

“A Red, Red Rose, by Robert Burns. An eighteenth century poet.”

“I doubt he wrote the bony ass part.”

“You caught me, I improvised.”

“Leave it to the professionals, big guy.”

* * *

 

“ _Phew_ , I am _beat!_ ” Prompto expelled in a rush as he collapsed inside the tent. The earthy scents from outside conflicted with the musk from the garage that the sleeping bag had been stored in, but he was too tired to be bothered by the itching in his nose.

Gladio had promised to make dinner, but that just meant boiling water and pouring it in a cup of noodles - what Prompto wouldn’t give for one of Ignis’ home cooked meals at that moment, especially after swimming nearly a mile and hiking all day.

He pulled out his phone and found a thread of texts from Noctis, first asking if Gladio had dismembered him and spread his body parts around the woods yet, then going on to tell him that he and Ignis had an encounter with Professor Ardyn at Whole Foods and it was as awkward as it sounded. How could he miss out on so much from just a day in the woods?

As he was texting Noctis back with his own events of the day, such as him and Gladio becoming sort of official, his phone reminded him that he was down to ten percent battery.

He peeked his head out of the tent, eyes zeroing in on Gladio squatting next to the small fire pit he had dug the night before. “Hey, where’s that power block you had last night?”

Gladio’s thick bottom lip jutted out in thought. “It’s in one of the side pockets of that black bag by my pillow.”

Prompto ducked back inside and sat in front of the bag, unzipping the first of the four pockets, but all he found was bear mace and a pocket knife - he hadn’t thought about bears at all, but now he was worried. Inhaling deeply, he zipped the pocket shut and moved on to the next. There was a small, nondescript tube with some kind of limpid gel inside. Prompto brushed it off as hand sanitizer until he picked up the next item, a foil square with an obvious circular indent in the middle.

Prompto lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the tent, as if expecting to find a camera watching for his reaction. This had to be a joke, right? A condom? Then...that tube wasn't hand sanitizer…

He dug deeper into the pocket, coming up empty. Only _one_ condom? Could Gladio not get it up again after coming once? Did he think that Prompto couldn’t handle a second round? Did he only want a quick fling? And did he actually think Prompto could take something that wore a size _XL_? No, no! That wasn’t what was important! Focus, Prompto!

Did Gladio expect something to happen between them on this trip? He didn’t seem like the type to reach for sex, but then again, Prompto couldn’t make that assumption after only knowing him a month. For all he knew, Gladio could be a serial rapist, and this was his usual spot to bring his victims.

Prompto tucked the condom away, then picked it up again a second later. What did it _mean_?

Maybe Gladio had used this bag for something else prior to the camping trip? He couldn’t have packed it for Prompto. Was it there for happenstance purposes? Did Gladio usually jerk off in the woods, and he didn’t like to make a mess? If a giant man cranks it in the forest and no one’s there to hear it, does he still make noise?

Prompto scrubbed his hands over his face, condom still pinched between his fingers. He was thinking himself in circles, his greatest downfall. He should just approach Gladio about it, the man was sitting right there! But what if it was all just a huge misunderstanding, and Prompto was make mountains out of latex?

His chin trembled as he gazed at the condom until his eyes fell out of focus. This was getting ridiculous - he just wanted to charge his phone!

Exhaling deep, he shoved the condom inside his pillowcase without much thought of what he’d do with it there. Perhaps ignore its existence until the memory of it creeped on him at his most vulnerable moments while trying to fall asleep to the less than sultry sounds of his roommate blaring Nicki Minaj.

Of course, in the next pocket, there was the charging block for his phone. He plugged in his phone and sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, elbows perched on his knees, hands interlaced with the index fingers pointed and pressed to his lips. He had to face Gladio now. He had to go out there and talk to him as if he didn’t know the man wore a size XL condom...and possibly wanted to wear it while inside Prompto.

Why did his brain do these things to him? If he hit his head hard enough, could he forget everything he just saw?

 

Gladio chose that moment to shoulder his way inside the tent, a steaming cup of ramen in each hand. He paused mid crawl, amber eyes widening just a fraction and searching. “Your face is turning purple - are you even breathing?”

Prompto wasn’t, and he took a loud, desperate gasp for oxygen.

“Are you okay?” Gladio set the cups down gently, as if any sudden movement would set Prompto off.

He was beyond reasoning at this point. All he could think of was Gladio and the outline of his dick in those green boxer briefs. He was endowed and stacked and built and every adjective in between, and Prompto’s face burned at the mere idea of his own narrow hips trying to accommodate that girth.

“I’m fine,” Prompto reached for the cup of noodles, and Gladio met him halfway. “Noctis was just texting me. Told me that he ran into my photography professor at the store.”

“Is he in the class, too?” Gladio slurped down his own ramen, gaze trained on Prompto.

“No, he dropped out at the beginning of the semester,” Prompto explained, giving Gladio the entire story of Professor Ardyn’s stalkerish tendencies. It became harder to contain his grin the more he went on, Gladio’s eyebrows near his hairline by the end of the story.

“And he hasn’t pressed charges yet?” Gladio pinched the bridge of his nose. Simply hearing about it was enough to drive someone up the wall. “Wait- and you want me to pose _naked_ for this geezer?”

“What?” Prompto blanked for a moment.

“One of the topics. We still have to cover bed sheets, nudity, fusion of bodies-”

Thank the gods that Prompto didn’t have ramen broth in his mouth at that moment, or he surely would have sprayed it over the entire tent.

He had completely forgotten about those topics up until now, having pushed them far, far to the back of his mind. Why did Gladio have to bring those up now, especially after Prompto had just hidden away his only condom - well, the only one that Prompto had come across. Who knew what other rubbers he had stashed around the tent.

“If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, we can figure something else out.” Gladio smirked to himself.

“N-no…” Prompto glanced down at his ramen, then set it to the side. “Bed sheets will be easy, and nudity, too. It’s self-explanatory. But fusion of bodies, that’s…”

“Sex?” Gladio offered.

“ _Why_ would you _say_ that?” Prompto flushed, burying his face in his hands.

“Sorry, that’s what I thought it meant.” Gladio shrugged.

Prompto peeked between his fingers, golden lashes brushing his skin. “It can also be kissing or something else, you giant pervert.”

Gladio’s lips form an ‘o’ of understanding. He nodded in agreement, cupping his chin with the crook of his thumb and index finger. “Oh sure, so this guy wants pictures of me sucking face with you?”

“No!” Prompto was about to rip his hair out, this conversation was so embarrassing - Gladio didn’t seem bothered one bit, slouching comfortably and finishing off his noodles with a noisy slurp. “I think we can do something different...artistic, but literal. I’ll need liquid latex, some backdrops from the school’s studio, a tripod…”

“You’re adorable when you’re thinking so hard.”

Prompto sputtered on his breath. “W-what are you saying…”

Gladio raised his eyebrows in perplexed scrutiny, as though he wasn’t aware of the very words that had just leaked from his beautifully shaped lips.

“You can’t just call me adorable...that’s...I’m…” Gladio waited with a patience that must have been ingrained in him at birth. “I’m a guy…?”

“That the best you could come up with?” Gladio asked with a breathy laugh, a smile that showed off his teeth.

He leaned across the space between them and took a fistful of Prompto’s shirt, yanking him unceremoniously to close the remaining distance. Their lips pressed together for a warm, effortless kiss that had Prompto’s fingers itching to touch stubbled cheeks and comb unruly hair.

At some point, between the euphoric sighs, and subdued touching to arms and shoulders, the two men ended up on the floor of the tent, stretched out on their sides and holding conscientious gazes between one another. Hesitation was the enemy, Prompto fretting over the idea that Gladio might want to take things further, the idea that he might _not_.

Now he was contravening with himself, but hormones and good judgment were never the best of friends. What was considered an acceptable amount of time of knowing someone before jumping in bed- or in this case, sleeping bag? A month was pretty fast, right? But in movies and on television, people were doing it left and right on first dates, weren’t they? But that was fiction. Prompto really had to start separating fantasy from reality.

“I can see smoke wafting from your ears.” Gladio murmured, gesturing his hand in a swirling motion towards the ceiling of the tent.

Prompto backhanded him squarely on the bicep. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Knowing you, there’s only one thing on your mind that you’re obsessing about.” Gladio chuckled.

He wasn’t _mistaken_ , Prompto was chasing himself in a tilting circle that would soon leave him with no grounds to walk upon, but how could Gladio make an assumption of him based off the short timeframe they’ve known each other? “Knowing me?”

“Hm?” Gladio scratched under his chin.

“How do you... _know_ me?” Prompto squeezed his arms to his sides, head burying itself between his shoulders.

Amber eyes glinted in the lamp hanging from the ceiling of the tent. “Time doesn’t equate to how well you know someone.”

Prompto found that hard to believe. Time was always a factor - you don’t isolate yourself with someone you don’t trust, and trust took time and effort and patience, sometimes cultivating for years. So why was Prompto alone with Gladio on a hillside with a tent as their only source of shelter? He was defeating his own argument at this point!

“You can tell me, you know.” Gladio tilted his head into the padding of the sleeping bag, his unruly hair swaying. “What’s got you worked up.”

He couldn’t meet those searching eyes that could see through him, so Prompto rolled onto his back. He squinted at the ceiling, fingers twitching with the itch to do _something_ , anything. If he brought up the condom, Gladio’s XL condom, that he had hidden away in his pillowcase, Gladio would be honest with him, right? He’d admit that he wanted to sleep with Prompto, and that was the entire point behind the camping trip.

Would Prompto let it get that far? He couldn’t fathom it that far in advance, it was so out there, way, _way_ out there. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this constant back and forth.

Chest heaving an incredibly large sigh, Prompto tossed himself into an upright position, and Gladio sat up with him, albeit slower and far more graceful. He crawled passed Gladio on his sleeping bag and dug into the pillow case until his fingers pinched the foil of the condom. He held it there, arm frozen stiff between the cover and pillow itself, for handful of thick seconds, and then finally withdrew his arm.

He held the small square out to Gladio, glancing everywhere _except_ Gladiolus Amicitia. “I found this...uh...in your bag. I didn’t mean to take it. I panicked.”

Gladio frowned, and when he didn’t immediately take it from Prompto’s hand the younger man waved it frantically. Thick brows rose high on a scarred forehead, and Gladio took the condom with a slow as molasses motion. “Oh...okay. I don’t remember putting this in my bag, but thanks for returning it, I guess?” Gladio bent his wrist, reading the label over and snorting. “Guess you wouldn’t get much use out of this, huh?”

“Huh?” Prompto blinked at the audacity.

Gladio laughed briefly, glinting eyes averting to Prompto’s lap. “Oh, c’mon Prompto, you and I both know this wouldn’t fit you.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Prompto slapped Gladio’s knee in an attempt to halt the obnoxious cackling that was tumbling out of the oversized man. “You packed it to stick it in _me_ , didn’t you?”

The laughter came to an abrupt halt. “No...I didn’t.” Gladio flipped the wrapper back and forth between his fingers. “I think this is a leftover from when I…”

Prompto didn’t miss a beat. “Uh! When you what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Of course Prompto was going to worry about it, turn it over and over and over again in his mind until there was only one possible explanation. It wasn’t hard to get the words out, surprisingly. “It’s from the last time you took someone camping…”

“In the summer of last year.” Gladio affirmed.

“That other guy?”

“No...he was years ago. This was a woman.”

Prompto hated that the creative part of his brain took the chance to supply him with the image of a tight waisted woman with a bountiful bosom and shapely calves clinging to Gladio as he made vigorous and earth shattering love to her. She was a redhead and her name was Anastasia.

“I see. Anastasia sounds like a nice woman.” Prompto muttered.

“What are you talking about?” Gladio snorted. He flicked the condom across the tent and stretched himself out on the floor again. “You’re the most interesting guy I’ve ever met, Prompto.”

Prompto had to let that settle in for a second. “You’ve been all over the world, and _I’m_ the most interesting person you’ve met?”

“Yeah,” Gladio’s lips pressed out a coy smile and ushered Prompto to lie back down with him, pressing their chests together by caressing Prompto’s back with his hands. “You really light up a room, you know? I don’t understand how a guy like you can lack confidence in yourself.”

He rubbed his lips together, gnawed on them as he processed the words. Gladio saw him as something brilliant and intelligent. Talk about rose tinted glasses. “You clearly don’t understand anxiety and depression.”

“I don’t.” Gladio answered immediately and honestly. “But I’m willing to try to. If you don’t mind helping me with that.”

Pressed against Gladio’s chest, soaking in his warmth and inhaling the scents of earth and sweat and salt water, Prompto had to wonder when he had gotten so lucky. What had started off as a fluke, a chance encounter at a gas station, had turned into a school project, and then to a relationship of unspoken trust and new experiences. Prompto had never jumped off a cliff into open water before, had never made spontaneous plans, had never met someone so ready to shake him out of his episodes, to learn what instigates them.

He beamed up at Gladio, reaching a hand up to comb a stray hair down. “It’s not something that can be explained easily, but I’ll do my best. In the future. Right now...I’m very comfortable. Right where we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand that is all that I have already written so who knows when the last chapter will be up!


	7. Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio’s mouth was a whole other level of...of something - something, he just couldn’t find the proper brain function to describe exactly what Gladio’s mouth was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes hi I've been gone for a hot minute and I didn't even reply to any of the wonderful comments I got on the last chapter, I'm a piece of shit sorry! I really appreciate all the love you guys have given this fic and I'll try to be better about finishing it! I'm not super confident in this chapter, but I was driving myself mad with it.
> 
> A bit off topic, but I'm considering posting a playlist for this fic maybe?
> 
>  
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/zappschaaps)

Posing Gladio was like trying to change the pose an age old tree. He did his own thing, even when Prompto rushed from behind the tripod to put his legs back into position, to smooth out the cream colored sheet that kept wrinkling whenever Gladio moved his arms, to run a thumb between furrowed brows that creased tawny flesh the longer the clock on the wall ticked by.

“I swear to god, if you don’t stop moving, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Gladio narrowed his eyes in a dubious display. Compared to the giant red wood that was Gladio, Prompto was a shivering sapling - if Prompto were to continue using the tree analogy.

“Uh...I’ll never kiss you again.” Prompto stated boldly. Incredible, he was the true makings of a supervillain.

The goliath on the bed stiffened his posture and sucked in his stomach. “Anything but that.”

Prompto rolled his eyes, patted the tight skin over wide ribs, and told Gladio to relax, but hold position. Contradicting himself, especially as he watched those pale lips twitching with a suppressed smile through the viewfinder of his camera.

There was a refinement to Gladio, from his sculpted nose to his bushy brows. Everything about him seemed purposeful, from the scarred flesh to the thin beard on his cheeks, the freckles spaced out around his body like secrets. His long limbs padded with muscle stretched across sage green sheets like resting boulders.

“When you stare at me like that,” Gladio muttered, not budging from his position. “Your lips part and I can see your two front teeth. It’s cute.”

Prompto clamped his jaw shut tight. The capillaries in his cheeks swelled with blood, tinging his cheeks a splotchy red. He suddenly couldn’t find a comfortable place to rest his tongue in his mouth, the muscle feeling too large. Gladio was the first person to make him feel accomplished and defined, and at the same time clumsy and confused. His stomach swirled with the prospect that perhaps this was developing way past a mere crush - he wanted to dance and collapse beneath that golden amber gaze.

He shook his head, shaking off the cobwebs shrouding his mind. He had to focus; they had been working together on this project for over two months now and it still felt as though Prompto was miles away from the finish line. He still had to decide which photos to use, edit them, title them, figure out how he was even going to present them (he had overheard a few classmates say they were doing scrapbooks and powerpoints and collages, all ideas sounding exhausted to him). That would take hours, days, and the project was due in two weeks. They still hadn’t touched on certain categories, bed sheets being at the top of the list of the procrastinated topics.

Gladio cleared his throat. “I don’t know much about photography, but I do know that the camera clicks when a picture is taken and it’s awfully silent over there.”

Prompto couldn’t find it in him to get annoyed. His finger twitched on the shutter button, tapped it twice, lifted off of it. He stood up straight and turned to absentmindedly adjust the softbox light he had borrowed from the school’s studio.

“You okay there, champ?” Gladio called out, taking a chance in sitting up despite all of Prompto’s fussing over the position of each strand of hair.

“Yes,” Prompto lied automatically, then remembered who he was talking to. “No.”

Gladio scooted further back on his king-sized bed and patted the space he had been occupying. Prompto hesitated only a moment before collapsing face first into the warm sheets that smelled like fabric softener and the gel deodorant Gladio applied twice a day. The combination made his chest ache.

“What’s bothering you?” Gladio asked.

“A lot of things.”

“Name a few, I can multitask.”

Prompto heaved a sigh and rolled onto his back, his shoulder pressing against Gladio’s bare chest. “I feel like this project will never be good enough, no matter what I do. And not because the teacher’s cooky and looks like he rolled in garbage and wears whatever stuck to him.”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“What?” Prompto glanced up at the deep frown etched across Gladio’s visage. “No, you - you’re perfect. Infuriatingly so. You’re mature and independent and just...you have your life together. And I don’t even know if I’m just wasting my time with this, working so hard on this project and this class, when I might not be able to get work in this field.”

Gladio listened in silence through the rant and clicked his tongue several long seconds after Prompto finished. “This is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but you do have a backup plan, right?”

Prompto narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, that is the last thing I wanna hear right now.”

“Hear me out,” Gladio put up a hand in defense. “You still have two years of college left, plenty of time to figure out a new major to fall back on. I’m going to be honest with you Prompto, you will most likely have to start as a freelancer, and that involves building a clientele which can take years. You will need something else until then.”

“I don’t want a soul sucking office job.” Prompto clipped. Gladio was yammering on as if Prompto hadn’t heard this spiel before, from his school counselor to Ignis to, heck, even Noct’s dad. The all famous ‘advice’ that was soul sucking and gut clenching. It was sickening to hear it again and again, especially because it was his generation that was forced to hear it everywhere they went.

He _knew_ from the get go that photography wasn’t going to be a safe bet, but it was a bet he was willing to put everything on. He loved it, he loved seeing the world through his lense, a perspective no one else had. It was a conversation between him and what his eyes could see.

“Understandable, but Prompto, being prepared for anything is part of survival--”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now! Okay?” He huffed in his exasperation. He didn’t _want_ to snap at Gladio, but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t listen at that moment. Everything was becoming white noise, his mind closing its doors on reality.

Gladio was very quiet, quieter than Prompto had ever heard him before. Even his usual heavy breaths seemed to succumb to the tense atmosphere. And finally, softly, he said, “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But you should discuss it with someone, if not me then your friends, or a teacher.”

Prompto closed his eyes and sighed. How had he gone from admiring Gladio to shutting him down so abruptly? He couldn’t stand how volatile his anxiety could make him, but he didn’t know how to apologize when he was feeling unconscionably in the right.

Gladio pushed himself up with a grunt and scooted himself off the bed. Prompto could only stare at the spot he had occupied as Gladio made work of turning off the light stands Prompto had set up in the room, and then the overhead light all together. Prompto was left with only the late afternoon sun filtering in through the curtains and the regret weighing in his chest cavity.

He could admit that Gladio’s advice wasn’t _wrong_ , but it was redundant even if well-meaning. He didn’t deserve Prompto’s bad attitude, that much was for sure. If anything, Gladio had handled the rejection quite graciously. He’d give the big man some space until both of them could figure out and choose their next words.

Prompto wasn’t sure how long he had been lying in Gladio’s bed, but eventually the man came back with an arm full of assorted items. He set some things down on the nightstand between the door and the bed, then put the rest on the twin piece on the other side. When he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, Prompto sat up to watch him light three-wick scented candles, one for each end table, giving the room a dim, orange glow.

Gladio then pulled out his phone and fiddled with the touch screen for a minute before music began to play, a mellow song with soft guitar strums and a tambourine. The final touch was a bowl of assorted nuts and dried fruit and pretzels set down on the mattress in front of Prompto along with a bottle of water.

Prompto stared at the display as Gladio gently lowered himself opposite of the college student. He lifted his quizzical gaze to Gladio.

“I looked up what to do to help someone who feels stressed out. I’m not exactly an expert, but I’ll help in any way I can. The site said comfort food helps, but all I have is trail mix and cup noodles. Figured you wouldn’t want the latter.” Gladio murmured in the guttural tone that Prompto adored.

He had googled how to appease to a stressed out person, Prompto couldn’t believe this. He was trying, juggling with a foreign concept that he, a confident and strong person, didn’t understand. It was so incredibly endearing.

Prompto buried his face in his hands, dug his nails into his eyebrows. What the hell...he was messed up and Gladio was...he was…

“Nobody’s perfect.” Gladio said as though he had been reading Prompto’s thoughts. He reached out a broad hand and combed blond bangs out of the flushed and freckled face. “Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. You and I are very different, and that’s what I like most about you.”

How did someone like Gladio manage to convey so much in so few words? Prompto wished he was that concise...but no, he was a creative. He flourished in word vomit and feelings, but this refinement that was Gladio was like a missing piece in his puzzle. Another step closer to the answer of that question; what was this all for?

Blue eyes averted back to the bowl of trail mix. “No M&Ms?”

“Chocolate would defeat the purpose-of a trail mix.” Gladio frowned.

“Everyone knows M&Ms are a must have in trail mix.”

“Not in Gladio’s trademark trail mix. It’s designed for the ultimate protein intake. As a real trail mix should be.”

“Okay, stop saying the term ‘trail mix’, it doesn’t sound like a real thing anymore.” Gladio watched Prompto closely, and Prompto’s face flushed three shades of read, but he couldn’t stop the smile that split across his lips. “This really means a lot...you doing this.”

Gladio’s lips twitched up at the corners. “I’ll try and avoid getting all big brother figure on you in the future.”

Prompto snorted. “Thanks. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“Oh, that was you snapping? It was more like a chihuahua yipping.” Gladio guffawed at the subdued punch to his chest. He caught the hand with ease and lifted it to his lips, kissing each and every knuckle. “Don’t stress yourself out. This project is going to turn out great. I have every bit of faith in you.”

Prompto huffed pleasantly and sat up, moving the bowl of trail mix out of the way so he could kiss his boyfriend.

* * *

They had gotten off track for all of eighteen hours, but Prompto steered them back to the bedroom with Gladio shirtless and lounging in the bed the next day. Bed sheets was such an odd topic, and Prompto was certain that Ardyn was just getting a kick out of making his students uncomfortable.

“Hey, your face is too serious.” Prompto commented as he took a series of shots and reviewed them. “Think of your favorite romance film, and make a face from that. Something wistful, like...Rose from TItanic.”

Gladio made a pensive sound.

“Don’t say it.”

“Okay, I won’t--”

“You haven’t even seen Titanic?!”

“You told me not to say it, so I didn’t. You’re the one saying it. As far as we’re concerned, it’s Schroedinger’s Titanic.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, mister. After we’re done here we’re watching it.” Prompto confirmed and walked up to Gladio. In a bold move, he straddled the man’s chiseled stomach and lifted Gladio’s head up with his hands to meld their lips. His tongue slipped out to swipe the plump bottom lip, tasting the coffee Gladio had been drinking moments prior. As soon as Gladio opened his mouth, seeking to further their kiss, Prompto backed off and went back to his camera.

Gladio watched him with a dazed, pining gaze from the sudden disappearance of his partner.

“That face,” Prompto said confidently from behind the lense, the only place he felt empowered and willful. “That’s the one.”

Gladio looked at him right through the lense, conveying just what he thought of Prompto’s little trick. “Tease.”

“Behave and we can continue later.” That appeased him enough to stay quiet through the rest of the shots.

The list was almost complete, the last two on the list being _fusion of bodies_ and _nudity_. Prompto wasn’t dreading the topics as much as the day before. There was still no clarity in what he’d do, but it wasn’t weighing him down. He knew Gladio would help in any way he could even if his most creative idea ever was adding fresh ingredients to dollar cup ramen.

They wrapped it up for the day, ordered Taco Bell through the DoorDash app, and watched Titanic. Or tried to.

“Dude, you’re missing the best part!” Prompto shrieked through his laughter as he and the giant of a man toppled over on the couch and rolled off on to the floor, Gladio’s hand protecting his head through the fall. “Gladio!”

“I know they all die in the end except for Kate Winslet. I know what happened to the real Titanic, sunshine.” His beard scraped against the thin column of pale neck as teeth pinched a pink earlobe.

“Shit…” Prompto gasped.

“I can stop.” Gladio murmured to him.

“No, don’t…” Prompto tugged Gladio’s head back down by his unruly mane.

And then Gladio was shifting lower, keeping one hand where it was cradling Prompto’s head, and moving the other to Prompto’s  shirt, exposing his ribcage. His hot breath was the only warning before a tongue laved over a stiff nipple like it was a savory treat.

Prompto gasped and reached his hands up to pull at dark brown hair like it was a life line. “Gng! Gladio!” The man tried to lift his head, but Prompto held him in place. “Don’t…”

Gladio’s lips vibrated with an appreciative hum as he sucked Prompto’s nipple into his mouth.

Prompto grit his teeth together, tilting his head back in the hand beneath it. He had tried playing with his nipples once before, while watching porn, but nothing came of it, and he never bothered asking a girl to do it for him. Gladio’s mouth was a whole other level of...of _something_ \- something, he just couldn’t find the proper brain function to describe exactly what Gladio’s mouth was doing. Each round of suction had his toes curling with a delighted mewl leaving his lips. Gladio’s mouth was unforgiving, biting at taut flesh over ribs as he crossed to the other side of Prompto’s chest.

“We have _got_ to get more meat on your bones.” Gladio muttered, circling the tip of his tongue around Prompto’s pale pink areola.

“Maybe your excessive meat and ramen fixation will help.” Prompto snickered, then yelped at a bite he received.

“Keep on making fun of me and I’ll make you beg for forgiveness.” Gladio growled darkly, teeth finding skin again. He was munching on Prompto like a sandwich, making the younger man mewl and twitch on the living room rug. “Ticklish?”

“ _No_!” Prompto used his his strength to tug Gladio’s head up, grinning like an idiot when a persistent tongue caught a nipple along the way. “Don’t even think about it.”

Gladio smiled and kissed Prompto with a tight lipped smile. “I would never do something that you didn’t like.”

“Oh really?” Prompto eyed him suspiciously.

“Well...I will be counting on you telling me when to stop.” The goliath muttered, kissing down Prompto’s neck.

Prompto was bewildered by the fluttering in his stomach, swarming his chest and filling his head with air. Gladio’s desire of solid communication in their relationship was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. It was utterly refreshing, if not a bit nerve wracking to be put under a spotlight in order to peek at what was under the rug. He still stammered, but he was learning to express himself openly thanks to Gladio, albeit a slow process. Sometimes he was sure Gladio wanted to tear his own hair out trying to get Prompto to speak up.

“Yeah…” Prompto whispered. Time to take the reins. “Well...I want...you...to…”

“Prompto.”

“Actuallypayattentiontothemovie.”

Gladio inhaled sharply before sputtering out a laugh. He sat up and helped Prompto back on to the couch. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

Prompto hid an uneasy smile behind his hand and grabbed a pillow, placing it inconspicuously over the tent in his lap. “It’s a very important film.”

“Sure.”

“A classic.”

“Mhm.”

Prompto chanced a peek up at Gladio, gauging his reaction. Judging by the barely contained smirk, the pillow was a useless buffer from the known. It was too late now - how could he possibly have admitted to wanting Gladio's mouth back on his body? Perhaps next time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Gladio plays for Prompto](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWrodPMhpdw)


End file.
